Another Labor Story

I listened to the doctor when she said #2 usually goes twice as fast. It was actually 5 times as fast, 4 hours.

Brian was home sick, sleeping, while Eli and I worked on a Lincoln Log cabin when the first contraction came. I didn't tell Brian for an hour since only two came, but then things picked up and it was time to figure out what to do with Eli. For an hour and a half between contractions I bossed Brian to do important things like pack my bag, clean the toilet for possible guests, and get Eli ready while I did crucial things like sterilizing bottles and nipples.

Eli went to his friend Curt's house to wait for his over-night babysitter (Amanda, a saint who drove from Farmington to spend the night with him) and we could finally leave. On the drive to LDS hospital I cursed the construction workers that left the freeway so bumpy and Brian for driving too fast, making dumb turns, and for trying to use his blackberry to find the way when I knew the address. I was also scared because I felt the NEED to push that my sister told me she had when her kids came really fast. Natural was not in my plans... 3 hours down.

I slowly made my way up to labor and delivery where there must've been 10 ladies standing around behind the counter. I was annoyed at their calmness when I asked if they were going to do the usual 1-hour watch before admitting me, "we have to make sure you're in labor." My nurse grew a little less chill when she checked me and declared "9." Is that labor enough for them? She started scrambling to get my doctor, a back-up doctor, and the anesthesiologist called. The last person being the most important to me.

I was not pleasant with Brian or the nurses, but they had tough skin, not exactly being sweet back. I also felt the constant need during bad contractions to let everyone know what I was feeling (the baby's head coming down), which we all know translates to "I have to poo!" Brian said the nurses would smirk at him. "Please No" came out more frequently and intensely after my water broke and he wasn't there yet. Luckily my contractions never get too close together and there was just enough time for the saint to work his magic. He gave me a big dose after my frantic plea "I just don't want to feel her head come out." My doctor arrived and after 10 minutes of pushing Esme arrived within one hour of getting to the hospital. I was overwhelmed with shock and joy when they placed her on my belly.

Before

11/3 Just before going to the hospital

After

11/5 Getting home, a little thinner and a LOT happier

Late Pregnancy Perks

There are some benefits to being 8 months along. And I've been thinking long and hard. Here they are in the order they came to mind:

-My stomach is actually tight and firm, despite being a little rotund.

-Strangers are more polite, holding doors, giving up a spot in line, or insisting on carrying things for me.

-Food is no longer the enemy now that the nausea is gone.

-My husband is uber helpful, cheezy, and grateful (either that he doesn't have to do this, or that I am)

-Nesting has my house quite orderly.

-SHE will be here soon. It gets a little more real every day. I watch and feel her kicks from the outside too, triple proof.

-Realizing how close we are makes me cherish my one-on-one time with the boy more. I just want to spoil him with fun and love.

Don't judge the order, please.

All By Myself

Coming from a mom, that is not a pitiful declaration. Brian has taken the boy fishing today and told me to do nothing productive. What does he think I am, a single college student on a reading day before finals?! That is no longer possible.

It was almost noon and I had spent all my time tidying, doing two loads of laundry and the dishes until I finally decided I could ignore my hungry belly and greasy hair any longer. So I've sat down for some caprese (heavy on the cheese) and dark chocolate and posting. Ah.. a quiet meal without nagging for each bite to go in a scrawny boy's mouth (although he will eat anything, for that I am grateful). Only a coke with lemon would make this perfect.

And now I must hurry and get outta here, the fishing didn't work out and they're on their way home. It's sad to say I almost got teary watching Eli out the window, climbing into the Jeep to leave me, but now I feel an urgency to leave before he sees me. Hope the outlets in Park City aren't too crazy and that my tiring body and achy hips don't mind my grandiose shopping plans.

Eager

I'm using that word a lot it seems, but it sounds better than jealous. Eli has a couple of friends (Curt and Zeke) that already have their little sisters. My visiting teaching companion, who also has a two year old boy, is even due the same day as me with a girl. In Relief Society some ladies were remembering that they were worried about being able to love #2 as much as the first. I find that incomprehensible.

I'm beginning to wonder if I would be quite this enthusiastic if were weren't expecting a girl. I've finally got the desire to sew again and even made something totally unnecessary instead of napping yesterday. A reversible tote for my 5 year old niece. Now I have it in my head that pillowcase dresses are the "best thing since sliced bread" (not that I find the stuff good). I got out a stack of pillowcases embroidered by Brian's grandma with dreams of making baby heirlooms and was about to skip today's nap when I realized our little one wouldn't even need it for 2 more years. She won't even be here for 4 more months.

Until then I'll appreciate my quiet nights, her little thumps, and one-on-one time with my sweet toddler. How much longer will he yells "mom!" every five seconds for half an hour straight (no matter how often and sweetly I answer) if exciting things like buses, trains, animals or toys are in view. Right now I'm the coolest person and he's excited to cook and clean or do nothing with me. He teaches me that a snail on the sidewalk, stopping to watch for the train to pass, and seeing the moon in the sky are the good things in life.

Man, am I the only one with wet eyes after that last paragraph? Probably.

Hopefully he'll be as enthralled by a little sister.

And I Thought Pregnancy Was Uncomfortable

Her first check-up went perfectly. I was so relieved I cried.

Medical Evidence No Longer Required

Truly realizing I'm pregnant seems to come in stages. It takes a while to swallow big news, right? I remember with Eli how weird it was those first few weeks because I felt normal. But, the test was positive...Then comes the sickness. This time stress over a miscarriage or something being wrong with the baby made me somewhat relieved when the nausea would return.

Lately my showing has become obvious, with the first stranger comment today at Walmart. Maybe she just noticed the on sale newborn-size Gerber shirts I was buying. But even a growing belly isn't a tell-tale sign with all the bloating and digestion issues that first make a person outgrow their waste bands (as if I had a flat stomach to begin with).

Hearing the heartbeat at the doctor's is really amazing, although it only lasts a couple seconds a month. But now I have had the final confirmation yet, and the most exciting. A couple nights ago I laid in bed with my hands on my belly and felt a little thump. 17 weeks.

Another little thump just reminded me to write.

We Couldn't Wait

To find out the sex of the baby we paid a little extra fee to go in 3 weeks early. You can't tell by this picture, but, it's a GIRL!

Now I don't feel dumb for buying a few baby girl outfits at Memorial Day sales this weekend. And we can start talking names, although, I'm so indecisive I'm sure we won't pick a name til the end.

A Fig, A Phobia, & A Gyro

So I get these weekly email updates on the development of the baby and it often relates its size to a tangible object. This week, it is the size of a fig. And this morning was our first doctor's appointment, the exciting one where you hear the heart beat for the first time. It was taking so long to find I got worried, but somehow the doctor tuned in on the fast rhythm of the inch and a half long person. I smiled and my eyes quickly met the doctors' to see if that was really it.

It is quite a shame that they should combine such an amazing moment with a trip to the phlebotomist. "Needles are my ultimate phobia." The doctor and phlebotomist had to know. I watched the girl get ready. She sure looks young, how experienced could she be? I always request the most seasoned person. She checked to see which vein was bigger and used a special needle. I started to like her, as much as one in my position could. When it was over I was brave enough to look over at my 6 viles, the doctor said 2! Somehow I didn't get woozy or turn white, which happens even for a simple (for most people) shot. After I told her she was amazing and Brian told me I was really brave, we were off for my treat- Greek food conveniently located across the street.

No, the real treat was hearing a couple seconds of that sweet, fluttering heart.

Wurst

Brian, the doll face, has taken the boy out while he trains with a student who will be testing soon. I'm supposed to be napping in our silent house made dark with my eye mask, but my grumbling stomach has kept me up. But I don't want to eat anything. Nothing we have here anyway. I know what it all tastes like coming back up. I'm not complaining, this time, so far, is much easier than Eli.

Despite my queezy stomach, my mind keeps turning to wurst. I rather like the European idea of making a neat, homogenous package out of the leftover meat that looks or tastes unappetizing. This is where I part from my humble Mexican ancestors and Andrew Zimmern who eat funky stuff in its natural form. I keep looking down at the skype window with my sister's name on it and wish I could switch spots with her, even if just for lunch. I bet she has all the supplies for making wurstsalat in her Swiss fridge right now. I feel like driving downtown to the Vienna Bistro just to ask the chef if he would take pity on me and make the salad of cold sliced hot dog and onion on a bed of butter lettuce swimming in a creamy, vinegary dressing. While you think about how crazy that sounds, I'm wondering why I have to want something out of season and thousands of miles away.

Morning Sickness Tricks

It started a couple weeks earlier this time, but with less force. I was worried it would get worse at the regular 8 weeks, so I searched early for help at this natural health store. I walked away with chewable ginger tablets for on-the-spot relief, vitamin B complex supplements, and a little jar of tiny homeopathic sugar pills. I believe especially in the latter two, after a bad morning yesterday because I didn't take the B vitamins the day before and the fact that I stopped throwing up in the mornings after starting the little sugar pills which dissolve under your tongue. They are also good because swallowing pills and keeping them down is getting harder.

Food plays a big role too, as we all know. Last time I learned that starch made me feel better and I've been relying on baked potatoes and bean burritos. Nice breakfast, huh? This week I have splurged. I've already had miso soup and a shrimp tempura roll twice. Yesterday I had Brian pick up a salami at a good store in town on his way home. It is an open-face sandwich of artisan bread, unsalted butter, and $25/lb Sopressata Salami that got me feeling good enough to post after almost 2 weeks. Yes, thoroughly cooked sushi and salami I consider okay because it hasn't been processed and sliced in some plant months ago.

There are my excuses meant to keep "aren't you not supposed to eat..." comments away. They drive me crazy. As poor Brian's dad learned when my stresses came to a head 3 years ago. We went to a fancy dinner and I couldn't eat my veal because it was pink in the center (and had to eat some yucky, chewy clams which I had learned too much about after going clamming), I was a schmuck for eating chocolate mousse I was sure contained uncooked egg whites, and then when we got home the poor guy offered me a slice of salami. I lost it and started crying. No melt downs yet, but we'll see.

no motivation

Usually during Eli's naps I'm prepping for dinner or sewing something, but lately I just sleep. I've gone from an extreme sewing machine to someone that won't even spend 15 minutes to finish a month-late birthday gift. 3 more gifts are sitting on the microwave, waiting for me to go to the post office.

Brian on the other hand, is amazing. All weekend he cooked and cleaned cheerfully and wants to know the chores I need him to do. Mainly the stinky stuff: empty out old left-overs, take out the trash, feed the cat his canned food, put diapers in the washer (although he won't ever scrub a poopie one, despite their rarity, so I must hold my breath and pretend I'm dealing with melted chocolate). I wonder if being a housewife and mom of a small child has ever been on Dirty Jobs.