Happy Easter! (Early)

Today after Mass the Marrieds Group at church had its annual Easter egg hunt. After the eggs were all found (within minutes, of course), everyone adjourned to the playground across the street for cupcakes and juice boxes.

Caetlin had a red cupcake.



She enjoyed the frosting first.



With the spoils of the egg hunt.



Then smiled at me after finishing.



It's awesome watching her eat a cupcake.

Three Funny Stories

Okay, enough with the depressing for a minute. I have three different, funny, true stories from my life the past few days.

1. The Footwear Incident
Friday, I met Bruce and a good friend with whom I work for lunch. It was nice to get out of the house and see my friend, with whom I had lunched pretty regularly before I went on leave. She drove Bruce to the restaurant and I met them there, but I ended up driving Bruce back to the office afterward, just for a few more minutes with my hubby.

In the car, Bruce looked at me and said, "Did you know that when I left the house this morning, I was wearing a hiking boot on one foot and a dress shoe on the other??"

When I caught my breath from laughing, I looked down and saw that he had put on white sneakers that had been in the car. With black pants and a polo shirt. It made me laugh all over again. At least they matched, I guess. Each other, anyway. After I stopped laughing again I had to assure him that I had most definitely not been aware when he left that morning of his, um, shoe situation.

2. The Full Moon
I have mentioned over on Facebook that Caetlin is going through a phase where she's taking off her clothes and diaper in her crib. Partly it is a potty training thing- we're deep into it now, with her regularly going on the potty, if not terribly reliably. And part of it is a sleep-delay tactic. She's giving us and her nanny fits, requiring three sheets changes per nap, and covering all her sleeping accouterments- Elmo, Flat Bear, her two blankies, her pillows, and her covers, plus whatever other stuffed animal may be sleeping with her at the time- in the waste product of the day. This is an awesome stage, I must confess.

So last night, we put her down, and while we normally watch her on the video monitor to make sure she's not taking her clothes off, the monitor battery was dead, and neither of us felt like getting the charger for it. We didn't hear much from her room anyway, and we knew she was really tired, so we assumed she fell asleep pretty quickly and left it at that, attending to the details of feeding Phoebe, feeding ourselves, watching TV, relaxing from the day, etc.

A couple of hours later, we're trooping back to the bedroom to try and get some sleep, where we finally plugged in the monitor. I turned it on and peered at the picture, checking on Caetlin. What confronted me was startling and hilarious: my daughter's bare bottom, a full moon, glowing into the night vision camera. She had passed out face down, completely naked, a result of taking off her one piece pajamas in order to take her diaper off.

We went in and changed her and changed her sheets, which were sopping wet. Caetlin had to have been cold- we keep it cool in the house and I have no idea how she was sleeping so deeply on cold wet bedding, naked. She went back to sleep immediately, and I was left to continue chuckling over the picture of her bare ass that greeted me when I turned the monitor on.

3. The Church Do-Si-Do
I took both the girls to church with me this morning, to give Bruce some kid-free time and for me to get holy. I had intended to put Caetlin into the nursery, but I was running late and I wasn't sure where the nursery was, as we've never taken her there, and so I just took her with me. How bad could it be? I thought.

(Aside: never, as a parent, think, "How bad can it be?" and then continue to do whatever you're thinking about. If you think, "How bad can it be?" the answer is, invariably, much, much worse than what you're prepared for. Just stop if you think those 5 little words. Really. Not worth it, ever.)

I wasn't dumb enough to try to take both girls to the cathedral Mass, so we instead went to the Mass held in the parish hall, which has a higher than average proportion of children and is easier to get in and out of. I had Phoebe in a sling at my hip, and Caetlin motored under her own power. Everything was great at first. Caetlin was glad to be hanging out with me, no matter how many times I asked her to use her whisper voice, and she was really, really good, staying confined to our little two-chair area, playing with things she found in the diaper bag, etc.

Then the homily ran long. I knew we were in for it when I looked at my watch, and 50 minutes had gone by, and we were only at the beginning of the Eucharist. Of course I hadn't been able to pay much attention to the homily because of wrangling Caetlin, but I figured I could still take Communion, which has always been central to me. Caetlin had started to melt down a little, starting when I took my lipstick from her that she found in my purse. I had let her play with it for a long time, actually, since she wasn't hurting anything, and it would cause more of a scene to take it from her, but when I realized she was getting it all in her hair (at least it was a good color for her), I just grabbed it. That, predictably, didn't go over well.

Then they called our row with no advance warning, sending us up the center aisle instead of down the side as expected. I had to usher Caetlin, who was feeling contrary, out and into the procession. She decided that she wasn't going to go, and laid flat down on the floor.

I tried to get out of the way of those behind me, Phoebe swinging loose in her sling from my hip as I bent over Caetlin with murder in my eyes (not very Godly, I admit). I ultimately had to pick Caetlin up and carry her to the priest so I could receive Communion. I had 9.5 pounds of Phoebe on my right hip, 30 pounds of Caetlin on my left hip, and I was on a mission; I was going to take Communion if it killed us all. Caetlin smacked me all the way up the aisle, too, on my arm and on my face, over and over and over. I marched grimly on.

I reached the priest, finally, and he blessed Caetlin and gave me my piece of the host. I tried to direct his attention to my hip, where Phoebe slept in the sling, pulling the sling open with my non-Caetlin-holding hand, trying to mumble around my mouthful of dry host, "Can you bless her please?" Meanwhile, Caetlin's hands are reaching out for the piece of host that the clueless priest is holding out, and he was about to hand it to her, and I realized at that minute that Phoebe wasn't getting blessed today. I whisked Caetlin away, her grasping fingers closing on empty air instead of the proffered piece of bread, seeing the bewilderment and confusion in the priest's eyes at just how weird that little interlude was.

I reached our seats with something like gratitude smothered in murderous rage at my brat daughter. I picked up our things and took us out, before the end of the service, needing to get out, feeling as though everyone had witnessed my strange little Communion shuffle (of course, they hadn't). What had I been thinking, taking both kids and not insisting that Caetlin go to the nursery? How bad could it be? Worse than I imagined. At least Caetlin didn't start screaming. That would have been much worse. She did, however, decide to lie flat again in the middle of the hallway outside. I saw a nice man stoop to try and help me, before he realized that no, she wasn't hurt, just being obnoxious. He backed away like she had the plague. I couldn't really blame him. I wanted to do the same thing, myself.

Update

We're not moving. When we told our landlord we were considering it, he dropped $250 off the monthly rent. That's not something we could pass up.

I am sad about the house. It was kind of an important emotional thing, since it seems like we haven't had much good going on around here lately, and in fact mostly have been horribly stressed and worried for the last 4 months or so. I had latched onto the new house as a place to spread out a little, mentally as well as physically. But moving wouldn't be the prudent thing, not when we have a much lower rent combined with none of the costs of moving- hiring someone to help with the furniture, the security deposit, etc.

So we're not moving. In more ways than one, it seems sometimes.

Professional Phoebe and Caetlin Pics

We took Phoebe and Caetlin to a wonderful photographer today, Paul Wendl in Alpharetta. The session was mostly to focus on Phoebe, but he took a few of the whole family, a few of Caetlin and Phoebe together, and a few of Caetlin by herself. He has published a few of the many wonderful pictures on his blog. Go here to see what I believe to be some unretouched shots from today's session.

A Couple of Notes

Something I meant to mention awhile ago: a week after Phoebe was born, Bruce ended up in the emergency room with excruciating abdominal pain. After a number of tests that ruled out the big things like cancer and a heart attack, the emergency room sent him home with a referral to a GI specialist and prescriptions for Vicodin and Nexium, which more or less controlled the pain. While the pain faded after a couple of days, and we were pretty convinced that he had just had a really bad case of food poisoning, he had an ultrasound of his gall bladder done last Friday. The results came back yesterday: gall stones. His GI doctor is recommending removal. He's having a surgical consult to investigate his options, as the potential side effects of removal worry him greatly.

We took Phoebe to the doctor this morning. She worried us with several episodes of vomiting, which my crack internet searching revealed might be a symptom of pyloric stenosis. The nurse at the pediatrician's office wanted to see her for at least a weight check; if she had pyloric stenosis, she wouldn't be gaining weight appropriately. Our concerns were quickly alleviated at the doctor's office, as the scale showed she weighed 9 pounds even. She's gained 22 ounces in 13 days. As my friend Kelley says, I am a milk machine! The doctor looked her over, and she looks perfectly healthy, so the diagnosis is overfeeding. She isn't terribly good at telling me when she's finished, and I have so much milk that she overeats and then occasionally vomits it back up. The doctor is of the opinion that she will learn when to stop, plus the sphincter at the top of her stomach will also get stronger soon, so we should see a decrease in vomit soon. Thank goodness. I don't know if I could take it if another family member needed surgery.

Finally, we may be moving in the very near future. Our lease is up at the end of this month, and we recently saw another house for rent that we both liked very much. The new house is in the same neighborhood, and is essentially the same price, but is much bigger. We haven't entirely decided whether to take it or not, but we are leaning that way. It's really a perfect house for us, head and shoulders above our current place. Our main calculus is whether we should look for something cheaper, or try to negotiate a lower rent on our current house. The main drawback of this house is that it is the same price as our current rent, so we aren't exactly cutting costs, which would seem to be important at this time. Anyway, more details as decisions get made.

Sorry for the headline-news feeling of the last couple of posts. That's kind of the way life is for me right now.

Phoebe at 18 Days

She sleeps.

And begins to wake.

News

Some few pieces of news from the No Math household:

1. Caetlin has become ever more adept at using the potty! She has both urinated and pooped on the potty in recent days, some days more than once. We've been inadvertently helped by a really bad case of diaper rash, caused by the antibiotic that is treating her ear infection. (Yeah, she had an ear infection, diagnosed about a week ago. We can't seem to keep the child healthy.) Anyway, she's had a really terrible time with the diaper rash, and it has made her reluctant to urinate in her diaper, because it stings on the rash. So she holds it and goes in the potty. Voila! Toilet training through pain! I should write a book.*

It's been interesting to see Caetlin's response to the diaper rash. She's had it this bad before- the girl has a sensitive bottom. But she has never put up this much of a fight about changing her diaper before, where she wriggles and screams before anyone even touches her. Beyond being heartbreaking, it is also evidence, I think, that she is anticipating the pain, meaning she is starting to think about the future. With previous diaper rash incidents, the pain was immediate and then she forgot about it. This time she remembers that it hurts and anticipates that pain when it's time for a change. Very interesting to me.

2. Caetlin can also read a couple of words. This isn't actually new, so I might have posted about it before, but she can read her name and a couple of other words. They are sight words; she isn't quite ready for phonics and sounding words out yet, mostly because I don't think she grasps the concept of being able to read by herself. When she gets that and wants to read, it will be a snap to teach her, I think. She knows all her letters and the sounds that many of them make already. Anyway, Bruce was skeptical when I called it "reading" that she can recognize her name and a couple other words, but as I pointed out to him, reading is nothing but pattern recognition, and she recognizes and puts meaning to the pattern that is "Caetlin." Just because she can't sound words out doesn't mean she isn't reading these two or three sight words. I think it's pretty cool, regardless. And I'm reasonably confident that she'll be reading before 4.

3. Japan news- things appear to have stalled on the part of the client company. We do not think the position is dead in the water yet; as soon as the firm becomes convinced of that, we think Bruce will be laid off, which hasn't happened yet. However, as the economy continues to go south, both here and in Japan, the prospects for Bruce remaining employed, whether here or there, are looking grimmer every day. I just try to take things one day at a time and not focus on the insecurity. I especially try not to worry about my own job and try to have faith that I add enough value and that the firm wouldn't be so cruel as to lay us both off. I'm also hopeful that maybe when I return from leave, things will have picked up a bit. Fingers crossed.

4. Phoebe's hair is falling out. It remains to be seen whether it all falls out or just some of it. We're having pictures made tomorrow, so we can at least memorialize her birth hair, in the event that she turns into a bald baby. She is otherwise fine, growing like crazy and still an easygoing girl.

That's about all the news fit to print around here. Other than job and economic worries, we are all fine. Bruce and I are a little tired, but otherwise all is well.

I hope to have more pictures of Phoebe soon.

*I hope I don't have to clarify this, but making light of my daughter's painful diaper rash and the unintended (good) consequences thereof don't mean I'm glad for it. I fervently wish it had never happened, as I can't stand to see my big girl in so much pain. But sometimes one needs to find the funny where one can, you know?

Settling In

I have to say that so far, managing two kids has not been as challenging as I thought it would be. *Frantically knocks all wood in immediate vicinity* Seriously, though, I am kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop with Phoebe. She is so far a tremendously easygoing baby. She sometimes cries when we change her diaper, and she cries when she's hungry. Very occasionally, like once in 11 days, she's cried for a minute or two because she had gas. If I can get to her before she's melting down with hunger (not too hard at this point), she might cry once per day. So far, there have been none of the random newborn freakouts. Caetlin was an easy child, but nothing like this. I'm sure the fact that my anxiety level is way, way down helps a lot.

Anyway, we'll keep our fingers crossed that Phoebe maintains this even temperament as she grows. And now, some random observations from chez No Math:

- As I mentioned, our anxiety level is way down regarding care and feeding of a newborn. I have none of the worry that we won't be able to keep Phoebe alive, like I did with Caetlin. That makes spending time with her and the rest of the family far more fun and less scary than I ever imagined it could be.

- As a corollary to the lowered anxiety, I don't have Mom Ears tuned quite as sensitively as they were with Caetlin, which is actually a good thing. Phoebe sleeps kind of loudly, making all kinds of grunts, snores, and squeaks in the night. I manage to sleep through most of that. With Caetlin, I woke up with every little noise. Now, I'm getting more sleep than I had hoped for.

- Nursing is going so much better than I ever expected, thanks to some timely intervention by a lactation consultant that I was smart enough to go see the day after we left the hospital. I was quite sore, and she helped me learn how to get Phoebe latched on well, so as to not hurt nearly as much. The initial first days caused a bit of soreness that is mostly healed now, which is a good thing because Phoebe is a nursing fool. She cluster feeds during most days, so by the end of the day I'm a little sore again, but it also means she sleeps for decent stretches at night- 5 or 6 hours- and I recover then. I nursed Caetlin, but I used nipple shields with her and she and I never learned to latch on correctly. I am convinced that is part of why Caetlin stopped nursing when I went back to work. I am hopeful that will not happen with Phoebe.

- Because of her voracious appetite, Phoebe is visibly growing. She's also pooing about every 30 seconds or so, often mid-diaper change. Awesome. Thankfully, breastmilk poop doesn't smell bad, a fact that I am grateful for when it comes bubbling out of her as I'm trying to clean her tiny bottom.

- Caetlin is apparently enchanted with "Baby Phoebe." She loves looking at her, and touching her occasionally. She talks about her all the time. She's also clearly thrilled that I am up and about and interacting with her more. She's a joy to be around (beyond being a typical 2.5 year old pain in the booty).

- Caetlin started just today calling me Mom and Bruce Dad. Where did she get this? I have no idea. Not from us; we've always referred to ourselves as Mommy and Daddy. She hasn't dropped Mommy and Daddy, but Mom and Dad have started to work their way in, and it makes her sound older than she is.

- I had my first post-partum alcoholic beverage tonight, a beer, and it tasted like nectar of the gods. So incredibly yummy.

- I feel wonderful. Really, really good. I have mentioned this before, but it bears repeating, because I just feel that good. I am happy that I can hang out with Caetlin without worrying about her hurting me, or that I'm doing too much. I am happy that I am sleeping better. I am happy that I can eat a turkey sandwich without worrying about listeria, that I can drink that aforementioned beer, that I can imagine going out to a restaurant and having a great glass of wine that completely complements the meal. I no longer have heartburn. I don't hurt from giving birth, haven't had a single pain pill. And there's this other thing. I'm a little embarrassed to say this, because I am so happy about it, but it's so atypical and I had nothing to do with it, but I still remain really happy about it.

Okay, I'll whisper it:

I'm back into non-maternity clothes. And I'm only 9 pounds off my pre-pregnant weight.

I don't mean to throw that into anyone's face. Again, I had nothing to do with it. I'm just lucky this time. And I'm so happy about it, no looking a gift horse in the mouth for me. It helps me feel better all over to feel like I look good physically.

Anyway, that's what's happening around here these days. It's your average brand new baby, second child, toddler parenting situation, and we're happy. I'm happy. Things are good.

Isn't She Lovely, Made of Love

Early Friday morning, March 6, seems like so long ago.

Bruce and I woke a little late, showered, finished packing the bag and headed off for a light breakfast. We were both moving slowly, worn out and exhausted in the early morning sun. We got to the hospital a little late, but they checked us in right away and set me up in a labor and delivery room. The monitors were set, the IV was inserted, the Pitocin was started, and all we had to do was wait.

The contractions started coming regularly some time after the Pitocin was begun. It took some fairly high dose to get them regular, but once they started regularly, we were on our way. My wonderful friend Kelley came in at some point in the mid-afternoon; she had driven all the way up from her home in south Georgia to be with me for the weekend. She's my oldest friend, and is in school with ambitions to be a labor and delivery or nursery nurse, so besides being greatly supportive for me, it was a matter of professional interest for her. I was thrilled to have her there. Anyway, it took a number of hours before the contractions started to be painful; I watched TV on the computer with Bruce and chatted with Kelley while I waited for things to happen. The nurses kept offering me pain medication, but it honestly didn't hurt any more than the Braxton-Hicks contractions I'd been having for the last two months. The doctor came in and broke my water around midday. That was an experience; since he was having trouble snagging the bag with the hook, it felt like he was rooting around somewhere near my sternum for an extended period of time.

The contractions got painful, but bearable, sometime after my water was broken. I hung in there as long as I possibly could, but asked for IV pain medicine around 4 p.m. I was only 3-4 centimeters dilated at that point, and I really wanted to wait until 5 centimeters before I asked for the epidural. I remain convinced that the epidural slowed my labor with Caetlin, and I was determined to hang in there as long as possible to prevent that from happening here. The IV pain medicine took the edge off for another hour or so, and I breathed through another handful of stronger contractions and then asked for the anesthesiologist.

The nurse sprang into action, apparently having been waiting for something to do for me. She ushered my wonderful friend Kelley out of the room, turned up my IV fluids, and started setting up for the epidural. The doctor came in and performed the procedure; it went pretty well, as these things go. I was laid back down on the bed and watched for side effects and complications. Unfortunately, I was laid down flat, and became really uncomfortable. Then the nurse indicated that they were having a hard time tracking Phoebe's heart rate because mine was so high, they couldn't tell whether they were monitoring hers or mine. Tachycardia is not a common side effect of an epidural, and soon I had several nurses, the anesthesiologist and my doctor in the room trying to determine what, if anything, was wrong with me. The nurses were having trouble placing the internal scalp monitor on Phoebe's head and getting it to read consistently. I was uncomfortable, and a little scared, although I understood at that point that nothing was wrong with Phoebe. I honestly thought, not that I am suggesting I know more medicine than the personnel in the room, but I truly believed that if they had let me sit up or turn on my side to get more comfortable, and then left me alone for 10 minutes, I could relax and my heart rate would go down. That didn't happen, of course.

I tried relaxing as much as I could, given the frantic atmosphere in the room. I will say that from the two doctors, I got a vibe that they were more interested in understanding what was happening as a matter of professional curiosity, rather than that this was something to get worked up over. The nurses gave the vibe of an emergency, which was somewhat disconcerting. An EKG was performed, which was normal. My heart began to slow a bit. Then they lost Phoebe's monitor, and my nurse called for backup, "I need some help here!" The other nurse came in at a sprint, and my heart rate went way back up again. The anesthesiologist happened to be standing near me right then, and asked me how I was feeling. I noted that I had been starting to relax until all of this started, waving my hands around vaguely at the nurses.

I need to digress briefly here to say that my nurse, Claire, was lovely all day. Her backup, Heather, was, ah, lacking in the bedside manner department. Heather was the nurse who came in at a sprint when Claire called for help in monitoring Phoebe. When I made the comment to the anesthesiologist about all the activity in the room having made my heart rate go back up, Heather heard me and said, "Oh, sometimes we just move a little fast, that's all."

Now, I am not stupid. I realize Heather had not been caring for me all day, and maybe could be forgiven for not realizing that I am not stupid, but I did not appreciate being patronized at that particular moment. I could easily perceive that she and Claire, at least, thought there was something wrong that required quick action, and even though I tried to take my cue from the doctors that nothing was wrong, my increasing heartbeat betrayed me.

Finally, though, they got Phoebe monitored well, and the ping pong of her heartbeat, strong and steady, filled the room. They all left me, Kelley came back in, and I was able to get comfortable and really relax.

Except I wasn't. The epidural was wonderful, in that I remained able to wiggle my toes and move my legs and retain some sensation in my lower body. When I had Caetlin, I was completely numb from the waist down, until I laid on one side and the medication drained out of the other. I was actually grateful for that, even though it meant some of the pain was back, because at least I could feel something. Here was a much nicer experience, where I had a good amount of feeling, and even a little pain with the contractions, but it was completely bearable. Anyway, by the time everything calmed down, I had started to feel really uncomfortable pressure, like I needed a toilet immediately. I mentioned this to Claire, and she said, that's great, you're close to being able to push, I bet. Call me when it feels constant, not just pressure with the contraction.

I waited. I chatted with Kelley and Bruce, and I waited, and I grew more uncomfortable. I probably waited longer than strictly necessary, because when I called for the nurse, the doctor came in and checked me and said, "You're completely dilated. Looks like it's time to push." He left the room, promising to be back for delivery, and the nurse (a different nurse, as the shift had changed) and Bruce helped me hold my legs to push. I pushed through one contraction- and it felt so wonderful to give in to the urge to try and relieve that pressure!- and then another, and maybe one more, and then I felt the pain that meant that Phoebe's head was crowning. The nurse had realized that I was not going to be pushing for very long, and had already paged the doctor, mere moments after he left the room, but he hadn't shown back up yet. The nurse told me to breathe through the contraction, to try and wait for the doctor to arrive, and that may have been the hardest thing I've ever done. I did it through a second contraction, and marveled between the pains that the doctor hadn't shown up yet. I could feel the urgency, the immediacy of birth, and not pushing took superhuman effort. (Kelley later told me that at that point, maybe an inch or so of Phoebe's head was already out, meaning I wasn't going to be able to hold her back for long.)

When the third contraction came, I tried to breathe again as it ramped up, and I whimpered, "It hurts," to no one in particular, and the nurse said, "Just do what you have to do, sweetie." With the largest relief I can ever remember feeling, and gratefulness, I gave one long, hard push, and felt Phoebe's head pop out- like a champagne cork, like I remember Caetlin's doing as well. I gave a long groan, a product of the release of that awful pressure more than of pain, and the rest of Phoebe's body slithered out with no extra effort from me. She was born on the bed between my legs, delivered by the nurse.

I heard her cry immediately, and looked down and there she wriggled, covered in blood and goop. They wiped her off a little and handed her to me, and I tried to put her to breast but she was too angry at the disruption of her warm, dark home, at having been thrust into this cold, bright place. She cried non-stop for the first 20 minutes of her life, only stopping after she had been wrapped up, clean and warm and brought back to me. So I held her and looked at her in wonder, she with her mouth screaming open, and watched Bruce cut her umbilical cord, and saw her large amounts of dark hair (the old wives' tale about heartburn was right in this case). She was clearly perfect, healthy and strong.

The doctor finally came in at some point during all this, having never received his page. He apologized so profusely; I felt worse for him than for myself for his having missed Phoebe's big entrance. He found out later the cell service had a nearby tower that was down, so pages didn't come through. He was appalled and clearly very upset, but the hard work was upon him anyway. The delivery was easy; getting me together afterward was a little more challenging. I apparently bled pretty freely, and lost more blood than was strictly good for me. I didn't need a transfusion, thankfully, but I did stay hooked up to the IV for another day, so I could continue to receive Pitocin to help my uterus contract sufficiently to stop the bleeding. He also stitched me up- I had two really small tears, minor skid marks, really, that required a couple of stitches each. When all was finished, I was horribly woozy from blood loss, and when the nurse brought me apple juice, it was the best thing I ever tasted, raising my blood sugar to a level where I could think clearly. After I was moved to my post-partum room, I was able to order food, which also helped.

Phoebe started nursing at some point after all the ministrations were done, and she suckled for an hour without stopping. I took that as a good sign that our breastfeeding journey might go well together. They took her off to the nursery for her various tests and examinations, and wheeled me down the hall to my room, where I was unable to sleep because of hormones and adrenaline (I remember that from Caetlin too, only because she was born in the morning, that energy was expended during the day. This time I just lay awake looking at the ceiling and trying to get comfortable).

The rest is denoument. My IV came out Saturday afternoon, as my bleeding was well under control and my uterus was in great shape. I was up and walking around within a few hours of Phoebe's birth, and I was in very little pain. Kelley stayed with me most of the day on Saturday, so Bruce could be with Caetlin and his folks, and then I was discharged on Sunday (Caetlin was suffering from a little cold, so we didn't bring her to visit me in the hospital). I filled the pain medication prescriptions I was given, but I haven't taken any of the pills- haven't needed so much as an Advil. My blood pressure trended down while I was in the hospital, and though I haven't checked it since I've been home, I feel so much better, I have to believe it's lower. I feel so incredibly good- even though I am dealing with the whiplash psychological strangeness of being Not Pregnant instead of Pregnant, I am just so happy to feel physically well. No more heartburn, I'm sleeping better (not quantity, but definitely quality), no more being stuck in bed.

When they discharged us from the hospital, I felt the sun and warm breeze on my face as I climbed into the car. I looked with wonder up at the beautiful blue sky. Phoebe slept peacefully in the car seat. I blinked, having not been outside in two days, having been pregnant the last time I breathed fresh air, now having a new life in my care. It was only two days, but- in all respects, in every way- it was a lifetime.

New Moon

Happy Birthday, La Segunda!

It is my awed and overjoyed pleasure to announce the birth of one Phoebe Elizabeth, formerly known as La Segunda, this evening, March 6, at 7:10 p.m. She weighs 7 pounds, 13 ounces, is approximately 20.5 inches long, has a ton of dark hair and is already a champion nurser. I will post pics as soon as I can.

Yes, it is late. No, I can't sleep. I blame an under-air conditioned room, hormones, an uncomfortable sinus stuffiness, etc. The baby will be here to eat in another 10 minutes anyway, so I figured I would take the opportunity to make the announcement here, even though I don't have pics downloaded yet.

Anyway, I hereby retire the "La Segunda" tags, and use a new one for the very first time: "Phoebe." Sorry for my ramblings but I thought you might like to know that she's here and we're both fine. Pictures and a comprehensive birth story will follow later.

Happy birthday, Miss Phoebe!

Things to Look Forward To

Here are the things that I am dreaming about, knowing that they will immediately get better upon delivery of Segunda:

- No more heartburn. It's pretty rare that I suffer from heartburn in a non-pregnant state, so it's not something I'm used to coping with in normal life. And this pregnancy has been killer on the heartburn, consistent, persistent, always there. Around 30 weeks or so, I started startling awake in the middle of the night, having burped a large amount of bile into my mouth in my sleep. Not only was this gross and uncomfortable, but it was also scary, as I kept flailing awake, convinced I was about to drown in my sleep. A couch cushion has propped me more or less upright ever since then. I hate this stupid couch cushion. It's all only gotten worse since being more or less confined to bed. I hate heartburn. I positively loathe the taste of the various antacids I've been taking more or less constantly. I well know from Caetlin that heartburn stops almost immediately. Can. Not. Wait.

- Being able to breathe deeply. You never realize how much you take that one for granted until you can't any more. I routinely gasp for air, especially since my nose doesn't work as well as I wish I did in the aftermath of my cold. I try to clear my passages of the nasty infernal post-nasal drip and halfway through I realize my available oxygen has run out and I better breathe in quick. My lungs, located as they currently are somewhere around my collarbones, just don't have the capacity I think they do right now. Halfway through a big bite of food or something, I have to stop and open my mouth to breathe. Yeah, that's lovely. For me and my dining companions. This too, as I well know, will improve almost immediately on delivery.

- Being able to move around more freely. I might not want to get up and take a stroll right after delivery, but I will be able to turn over without the aid of heavy machinery. And though the belly will still be there, I'll be able to actually elbow it out of the way in order to get comfortable. A related bonus: I'll be able to lie comfortably on my back for longer than about a minute. When I am ready to get out of bed and move around, it will be minus 15 pounds, give or take, all from my immediate abdomen, so my center of gravity goes back to normal right away. I can bend over without danger of falling. Heck, I can bend. That will be a big improvement.

- Better sleep. Stay with me here- I know what sleep with a newborn means. But all I am able to do right now, even with Ambien's help, is to doze often, rarely sinking down into the depths of a dream-filled sleep. I was sleeping so well this morning, and the City of Atlanta decided to start some road maintenance right outside our window at precisely 7:00 a.m. this morning. I still slept through half of it; that's how tired I am. I drowse all afternoon unless I am sitting up. I get sleepy in front of the TV at night. But it never leads to deep, refreshing sleep. It's not that I am counting on the quantity of sleep to get better, but I am pretty sure the quality of the sleep will improve, especially minus all the other things I have mentioned above.

Did I mention no more heartburn? That's a big one for me. Though we'll see if the old wives' tale about excessive heartburn meaning the baby has lots of hair is true in my case.

Anyway, I'm reduced to dreaming about these things right now as diversion for the last day and half or so. I go back to the doctor tomorrow morning to see if I should check into the hospital tomorrow evening for some preparatory measures that ought to help Friday's induction, specifically Cervidil (a drug suppository that stays in overnight that helps ripen the cervix and make it more amenable to labor) and possibly a stripping of the membranes. If I haven't made any progress since Tuesday, my doc will likely suggest I meet him back at the hospital tomorrow afternoon to take these measures, with the actual induction scheduled for 7:30 Friday morning. I actually want to be in the hospital, for a change of scenery, for being able to forget about anything happening to my kid or house as being out of my hands, for feeling like we're getting somewhere, finally.

Not much longer now. Thank goodness.

Still...Pregnant

I have very little to add to the title except a couple of late pregnancy/bed rest observations:

1. I was all (kind of, anyway) excited about passing "all or part of my mucous plug upon my arrival at the hospital" yesterday. Progress! Stuff happening! Even though I know it has no bearing on when labor will actually start! Yeah, that excitement has worn off now, as it has become evident that what passed yesterday afternoon was only part of the plug, and as for the remainder...ew. I know, I know, even saying that much is kind of gross and too much information, but please bear with the lonely bedridden lady slowly going crazy from lack of human contact. And now suffering from the indignities of the mucous plug on top of it. Ew. Just...ew. That can really stop any time.

2. The Ambien made me a new person this morning. I won't say it was the best sleep I've ever gotten; it's not like the drug can also expand my bladder to three times its capacity just so I don't have to get up in the middle of the night. But it was deep sleep, for hours (plural!) at a time. It actually took two pills, one at 9 and one at midnight, to really put me down for the count. That's how ridiculously tired I was, how ingrained the insomnia cycle. I am probably going to head there again tonight, just to really try to be well tomorrow. I've been sleeping a good bit today as well. I will say the Ambien was a pleasant surprise for me- I could get up and move around and take care of my needs while on it, when I had been expecting to be completely knocked out.

3. As much as I contract when I move around, I wonder if bed rest is actually prolonging the pregnancy.

4. Bed rest is making me feel like a slug. Like I am becoming one with my bed, and not in a good way. Like I will at some point become an object of curiosity and ridicule: "Look, mommy! Why does that lady need that man's help to turn over? She hasn't left her bed in 10 years? And she's 15 years pregnant? WOW. Look at the BIG lady."

That is all from the House of the Hugely Pregnant. Back to the doctor first thing tomorrow morning.

Back In The Hospital Again

I spent several hours in the hospital today for extended monitoring, since my own checks of my blood pressure had shown that it was up quite a bit higher than I wanted to see. It came down almost immediately in the hospital, the monitoring of the baby shows that she's still doing great, and the blood work that they drew was fine, so they sent me home. I expected that, assuming that the pressure came down. I'm sure it was up in part because I'm still not sleeping. My doctor prescribed a few pills of Ambien for me, but I haven't taken them, in part reacting to her ambivalence about prescribing sleeping pills. The nurse who cared for me today gave me a very persuasive pitch for breaking the cycle of insomnia, getting myself rested and healthy, and noted that the baby will metabolize quite a bit less of the drug than I will (and it's not a high dose anyway). I was and am so grateful for her kind and informative words- I am nearly in tears right now contemplating a good night's sleep.

In other news, I passed all or part of my mucous plug upon my arrival at the hospital. Sorry if that is TMI. That doesn't really mean much but I'm trying to be optimistic that it means labor is near. I didn't have that with Caetlin, as labor was not in any way close to being started when I was induced.

Also: I missed the snow, mostly. It had just started when I headed to the hospital; I watched it fall outside my room window all afternoon, big fluffy flakes that accumulated on the grass and bushes. It changed to rain more or less right when we pulled out of the parking garage on the way home, though it still remains on lawns and sidewalks, probably to freeze into ice tonight and make tomorrow's commute wonderful. At least I don't have to deal with that bit.