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Archive for the ‘My Big Uterus’ Category

We have achieved Baby

born Wed. the 24th at 9:06pm.  8 lbs, 2.8oz

y’all won’t even believe my labor story but right now I’m too freaking tired to type it in (I did write it whilst at hospital.)

I make a mighty cute baby if I do say so myself.  Now I have to go feed him and myself.  More when my eyes focus properly.

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me 4 weeks agoThis is 4 weeks ago

This is last week.

I don’t think I’ve gotten any bigger, but will take another picture tomorrow before my appointment.  Next post will address one of the things that cheered me up, but didn’t want to inundate with photos.  Oh, and I made a labor mix that is gawth and cheesy and my husband will mostly hate it.  I’ll post it tomorrow, probably.  Still no sign of Francis feeling the need to grace us with his presence.  It’s like waiting to be killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts.

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Of course on the one day in months that I’ve not felt foul does my child finally (despite repeated warnings that this would happen) pull the towel bar, complete with wall anchors, out of the wall leaving a hole on one side.  Yes, this is the only place on said wall where a towel bar will fit.  So don’t expect to wash your hands in my main bathroom, ok?  Because it ain’t happening.  This, also of course, during the one hour she was *supposed* to lie down on the bed.  For one hour?  She didn’t have to sleep, just stay on the bed for an hour.  Because, you know, home sick from school?  Needs to rest.  Again, didn’t have to sleep, just needed to physically park ass in bed until I came to get her.  And why, you ask, was she hanging on the towel bar?  Because leaning over and moving her step stool so that she could reach the light would simply have taken too much energy.

Fucking four year olds, man.  I swear they’re worse than teenagers.

So here I am, with a hole in my bathroom wall where the towel bar used to be, a towel bar in my foyer, due to have a baby any day now, with a four year old who has a cold but refuses to accept that this means  having any physical limitations.  I have stacks of laundry to put away, a house to get ready for a new baby plus a house guest, and oh, guess what?

My husband lets me know right before he leaves for class that this particular one is held in a room in a sub-basement so he gets no cell phone service.  Which means that I cannot go into labor between the hours of 6 and 9 this evening unless I can truck down to Washington Square and start knocking on doors.  Which, ironically, I kind of found funny until the towel bar incident.  Because, remarkably, I was still in that good mood of this morning until the hole happened.  Now?  I think I’m going to have a good cry because I’m never going to be ready and I know that someone is going to come to see the baby and walk into my house and make a comment about the state of the apartment and I’m going to absolutely fucking lose it.

And so, let’s all repeat after me:

It is not my fault that the humidity won’t clear up, making the place smell like a barnyard.  It is not my fault our walls are shit and splinter so easily.  It is not my fault that the cats drop litter on the floor leaving a perma-grit no matter how much I sweep.  It is not my fault that I simply do not feel like running around picking up all of the little pieces of junk that collect in every corner of the place.  It is not my fault that my cats shed and that I can’t be arsed to vacuum 7 times a day to get rid of all of the hair.  And, mostly?  The first person to set foot in this apartment and make a comment on its cleanliness is going to get smacked with the fucking towel bar.

I was really looking forward to relaxing today, enjoying the fact that I was finally sort of at peace with the whole end of pregnancy thing.  I think that is what sucks the most–I don’t even get one day without bullshit to just enjoy myself.  I give up.

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And this despite a sick 4 year old (Day 2), a mopy cat (The Bean, and he’s a big baby), and a cat who somehow caught a claw and made her paw bleed on the glider but who somehow has no contact pain and no sign of injury (Pickle, who really would be the one to get the Kitty Stigmata).

I woke up this morning, extricated my feet from Bean’s warm, gooshy belly not once, not twice, but thrice and got myself to the kitchen wherein I made Lucy’s breakfast and lunch simultaneously, nuked coffee from yesterday while making a fresh pot, and even managed to shove some apple in my mouth before heading over to the computer. When, of course, my child came bearing a tissue caked in Exorcist-esque nose spew. And so, we’re home again from school despite my best intentions to get her back in today. She’s feeling better for sure, but I’m damned tired of this revolving cold bullcrap that comes along with school so we’re having one more Take It Easy Day and then it will be back to the grind tomorrow. I would really hate for her to be sick through the Halloween festivities and Grandma visit (assuming her brother decides to show up one of these days.)

I also decreed last evening that from here on out, we are no longer on Baby Watch. Quite frankly, I don’t know how I turned into one of those ‘Is He Here Yet?’ people but clearly it doesn’t make anything happen any more quickly so I’m going to try my hardest to get back to ‘He’ll be here as soon as he’s ready.’ Speaking of which…the other night at bedtime, Lucy looked up at me and said, ‘Mommy, I think The Baby Brother is ready to come out of the tiny tunnel (birth canal) now.’ Now if this isn’t a brilliant reminder that babies are born when they are good and ready, I don’t know what is. I assured her that as soon as he was ready to come through the tiny tunnel, he would.

What else, what else. I gotta milk this mood while it lasts because I could very well end up a Little Black Raincloud by midmorning…

Um…in reduction stuff, I’ve been (slowly) going through and changing all of our train mileage from gas to electric usage, which is actually far easier than I expected.  Still haven’t plugged all of the numbers into the spreadsheet though.  This has reminded me that I need to look at our regular electric usage, though.  We should be pretty much on track for the year since we have green power (we get 4x more than with non-green), but I’ve still been counting it as regular power.  Turns out that we’ll have 2 electric figures because of transit–one coal and one wind/water (household) so I’ll have to alter my percentages accordingly.  I may not bother with this until the 6-month mark though.  We’ve been reevaluating household electric since it bothers me that we use so much, and are now trying out an every-other-day dishwasher program along with being far more vigilant about turning lights out/not turning lights on.  We’ll have to see what our kWh totals are for the past month and figure out what else we can do going forward.  At this point, we’re sort of nickel-and-diming it anyway since our usage is between 7-10 kWh per day.

Consumer goods have indeed evened out this past month, and I set up a spreadsheet to track the categories of my spending.  The bulk over the summer was spent on clothes and furniture.  Furniture was all one-time expenditure stuff, and clothing mostly the same (at least clothing for me–Lucy will keep growing, although Xmas will take a lot of the edge off since everyone loves to buy her outfits).

Garbage is still way higher than I’d like, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to get it down much lower.  Big culprits are Pull-ups from overnight and cat litter, and we’re not ready to do without either.  I’m going to start tracking what I throw out, I think.

And that’s all I got.  I’m off to putter and snack and hang out with my poor, not-quite-well baby girl.  Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be one of those Liveblogging Labor folks, so no news means I’m not at the computer 😉

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39 weeks and counting…

One week to my due date.  I am alternating between wanting to be left completely alone and freaking out about all of the stuff I have to do NOW or NEVER.  Like all of the cleaning I’ve been not doing for the past few days because I’m too damn tired and can’t bend over.  I figure I’ll have like one chill day and then the baby will come.  Or, rather, I’m hoping for one chill day.  Today is not it.

Otherwise it’s status quo–I am huge, I am achy, I have a tension headache, I am hungry and I am not in labor.  My feet are swollen because of the humidity.  I literally cannot continue a train of thought without getting bored or losing track of what I’m saying.

Mostly, I am trying not to get all wrapped up in when it’s going to happen or what is going to happen after the baby is born.  This is not working as well as I’d like.  So, yeah, at this point no news means I am probably driving myself and everyone else crazy because it’s what I do best.

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I am in a rather cranky mood.  Between politics, sports and massive attempts to both keep myself busy and *not* overdo it, I’m afraid I’m not much fun today.

We got the co-sleeper set up and about half of the veggies washed and prepped for soup/salad tomorrow, and I finally sent off the proofed document at around 11 last night so all that’s left is to chill on the couch and watch the ALCS while poking around at 90% reduction numbers and plans for the rest of the first half of the year.  I’ll try to get together a proper post in the morning when, hopefully, I will be less crankified.

And, yes, I did damn near cry when I heard Torre wouldn’t be back, and no, I really don’t blame him.  I think this whole deal was passive-aggressive bullshit (c’mon, 5 million with a 1 million bonus for making it to the first round of the playoffs when his prior salary was 7 million?  This was clearly a slap in the face for only making it to the first round on the 7 mil salary.  And, seriously, 7 years without a championship?  There are plenty of folks who are lined up to cry y’all a fucking river.)  But I’m not talking about this anymore because I’m having a calm night 😉

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No Baby Yet

As I said in the comments of the prior post, the newest estimation from my midwife is early next week.  50% effaced, 1 cm dilated, and the baby is really low (unusually low for a 2nd)  which is probably why I’m feeling so much pressure and discomfort.

I’m not quite to the point of walking around the neighborhood whilst stimulating my nipples but talk to me again on Sunday night and I may have a different answer (or else avoid being out in my neighborhood if you’re offended by nipple-stimulating, muttering-to-self pregnant women).

While the ultrasound tech the other week estimated his weight at around 7.5 lbs if I go to 40 weeks, I was asked today if I feel like this one is significantly larger than Lucy.  I would be freaked out by this except my gut tells me that as long as he’s within 1-2 lbs of Luce (6 lbs 7 oz), I’ll be ok.  How’s that for a shift in perspective?

Anywho, I have to finish proofing the shorter document, find something vegetable-related to eat to counteract the bacon cheeseburger I ate for lunch*, figure out what to buy Lucy’s cousin for his birthday, get a package ready to go out, and have a staring contest with the Bean before Lucy gets home from her Very!First!Field Trip!  Thankfully I made it to pick up the farm share last night and therefore have enough veggies to feed a small army of veggie-eating folks.  I dunno, that seemed funnier in my head somehow.  Still haven’t made the soup.  Tomorrow, I swear.  I may even take pictures.  Speaking of which, I’ll put up the latest big ol’ preggo belly pic whenever I can con my husband into plugging in the camera USB cord.  I’m really big, man.  Like ‘my maternity pants are tight’ big.

*I went here for lunch and while I did not witness any plates flying around, the basement (where the bathroom is located) does have a rather creepy feel to it. 

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