2 Week Check-Ups

Gold stars all around!

Today began with Claire's 2-week check-up. It was our first solo trip out together and my first time to drive since the day before she was born, but I feel great and the pediatrician's office is only 1.5 miles from our house, so we did just fine. Claire has not only regained her birth weight (which is the goal by the 2 week check-up)- she's 4 ounces above it! Dr. P was very pleased. Claire made her displeasure at her nakedness known by squawking and shooting pee all over the scale and table with surprising force. JP hopes she always prefers her skin to be fully covered. I'm still breastfeeding, though we're supplementing a little with formula. It enables JP to take one night feeding, which is nice for him (snuggly baby time), nice for me (uninterrupted sleep time), and nice for our marriage (we're all about the equal division of labor). It also seems like there's one time a day (usually about 5 or 6pm) where I just don't cut it. She'll nurse from both sides, seem satisfied, and then start squawking about 30 minutes later like she's starving to death. Two ounces of formula later and she's very happy. It's been working well. At two weeks she's in the 95th percentile for height (22 inches), 75th percentile for weight (8 lbs. 14 oz.), and 95th percentile for head circumference (38 cm). Everything looks perfect!

(Side note: Claire is sleeping on my chest right now with her legs tucked up, her arms hanging down each side, and her little mouth hanging open. It looks so peaceful and adorable and there is still room for my laptop to sit on my legs so I can type.)

After a nap for Claire and some lunch for me we headed out to my two-week incision check. Claire refused to wake up to eat until we had to leave, so she got a very brief (very insufficient) snack before we had to jump in the car. Luckily the drive knocked her out and our wait for the doctor was brief- Claire was able to keep it together and didn't scare all the pregnant ladies in the waiting room.

Like Claire, my appointment began with a weigh-in, but unlike Claire, weight gain was not the goal. I gained about 45 lbs with this pregnancy (the same amount as Landon, but this time I was pregnant for four weeks longer, so I guess that's a victory!). I have lost 30. Given that I have done nothing but sit on the couch and take a few short walks around the block, I take that to mean nearly all of those 30 were just baby/fluid-related. Isn't that incredible? It takes a lot of stuff to grown an 8 lb. 10 oz. little girl. So that means I have 15 lbs to go. If the original 30 were related to the baby, I'm pretty sure the leftover 15 came from the cookies, but I don't regret a bite. Unless of course I haven't lost the 15 lbs before I start work, then I'll regret it - not even a dinky doozie is worth having to re-buy my work wardrobe.

Anyway, the physician assistant cooed over Claire, who was red and angry at not being offered a meal within 15 seconds of waking up. I was able to hold her during the exam, which was awkward but made Claire happy, and the PA announced that my incision was the best she'd seen in months and she was going to congratulate my OB. And I'm no expert, but it does seem to be healing beautifully - I'm no longer swollen or sensitive at all and it's just a thin little pink line. I really feel completely back to normal.

Claire slept again on the car ride home, finally got to eat her lunch, and has been asleep on me ever since. When you throw in that I spent a delightful two hours one-on-one with Landon this morning and then got to watch two old episodes of The West Wing (one of my favorite TV shows ever) on Bravo, it's been a pretty fantastic day!

Claire's Birth Story

A Recap of June 4, 2010
(as pulled from my relatively fuzzy memories of that day)

6:00 am: Wake up after a restless night's sleep. I'm not really nervous about the surgery, just suffering from a combination of excitement about the big day, anxiety about getting up on time to make it to the hospital, and the frequent urgings of my bladder. After my 4th trip to the bathroom I'm actually looking forward to the catheter.

6:45: Leave for the hospital with our carefully packed bags and my hair and make up done- gotta take advantage of the planned nature of this whole thing. My mom will stay home until Landon wakes up, and then she'll take him to daycare (it's pizza day; Landon is totally pumped that babyclaire is coming on pizza day) and then join us at the hospital.

7:00-8:00: I get checked in. The hospital misplaced my pre-registration paperwork so it takes a while. I meet my assigned nurse who seems very nice and get briefed on everything that will happen over the next few hours.

8:00-9:00: I'm finally registered and we head to my pre-op room. I get my IV (after 2 failed attempts, I have teeny hidden veins and extremely low blood pressure, I always feel bad for the nurses trying to get blood from me) and get hooked up to a baby heart rate monitor. Claire hadn't moved all morning so it was very reassuring to hear the whoosh whoosh sounds.

9:02-10:02: I get wheeled to the OR and have my baby!

The surgery went really well. JP was suited up in his scrubs and we kissed goodbye as I was wheeled into the OR. He had to wait in the hallway while I got my spinal, which was probably good since he's fine with blood but doesn't like needles. I believe my parting comment to him was "make sure you take pictures!!". Once in the very white and very bright operating room, I'm transferred to a skinny table and meet my anesthesiologist, my nurse anesthetist (CRNA), my surgical nurses, and of course my OB. Everyone is very friendly and nice and while the setting is a bit stark, it feels warm and happy. Claire is referred to by name and I'm very excited to meet her. I have to sit on the edge of my bed for the spinal, which goes in without any problems and takes effect immediately- I can't even swing my legs back up on the bed 10 seconds later. I lay down and the blue screen is put up in front of me while they prep my lower half for surgery. I'm talked through everything that is happening by my very nice CRNA- he remains my link to everything that is happening behind the blue curtain until Claire is born. At about 9:10 JP is invited back in; he has the camera ready. He sits by my head and tells me how excited he is to meet our baby girl while my CRNA informs me they are cutting me open (I think he said more gracefully than that). My blood pressure has been very low (about 80/38) so I'm getting drugs to boost it which make me a little dizzy, but I don't feel too bad. At 9:20 they ask JP if he'd like to stand up to watch his daughter be born and he does- the first thing he says is "she has a lot of hair!" and then I hear her cry. It's 9:22. My OB reminds the stunned and proud father to start snapping pictures and I try to thank her and realize I'm a little choked up. They carry Claire to a little isolette right next to me to wipe her down. She doesn't like it.

She's in my arms in about a minute later. She is perfect and seems so big!

JP looks over the blue curtain again and informs me there is a rotisserie chicken sitting on my stomach. My OB tells him that is my uterus and it's being stitched up before they stick it back inside me. JP looks like he might not have needed to know that. I notice two rather deep grooves in Claire's forehead and my OB says those are indentions from my pelvic bones- she was pressed down against them and my OB had to dislodge her. I am very, very glad I had a planned c-section. They take Claire away to be weighed and cleaned off a little more and JP follows with the camera.

My CRNA continues to stay right by me and tells me what's going on. At one point they prop up my legs and I see my knee over the curtain. I'm shocked to see how glowingly white it is and to find I feel absolutely no physical connection to it. I'm pretty sure I make a comment that my skin looks like I'm a vampire. (I had just read all the Sookie Stackhouse True Blood novels.)

10:02: I am back in my pre-op room, now the post-op room. JP is still with Claire, so I'm by myself, marveling at the fact that my belly is gone when it was here only an hour ago. I can't say that I miss it. After waiting a while I'm bored and ask the nurse to hand me my book and blackberry. I send a text to my parents and siblings that Claire has been born and then settle down to finish my re-reading of the 7th Harry Potter. It is so weird that I just had a baby.

10:30: The pediatrician comes in to tell me that normally she would be bringing Claire in now to be with me, but she has some fluid in her lungs that they are watching. JP is with her, my mom is standing outside the nursery window (I can hear her voice coming down the hall while she talks on the phone to my dad and grandparents), and they fully expect she'll be in with me in an hour. I'm glad JP is with her, feel a little sad that my reunion with Claire is delayed, and return to my book.

11:30: Claire comes to see me. She is perfect, as is her breathing, and I hold her while JP and I just stare. As a last minute decision I decide to try nursing when asked and it goes well. I'm about to be transferred to my regular room where my mom can join us and we can all sit and stare at Claire some more.

12:00: I'm in my very big, very nice room with my mom, Claire, and JP. I'm regaining some of the feeling in my feet and legs but am still numb enough not to be in any pain. After a little bit Claire goes back to the nursery for her assessment, so I ask for my laptop to see all the pictures my OB made sure JP took and write a quick post for you all.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. My aunt and grandparents (dad's parents and sister) arrive from Houston around 2:00 to visit our new baby girl, as does my dad (we weren't expecting him until late Friday night, apparently he was telling someone our good news and his boss overheard and sent him packing to Austin). My spinal wears off and I start taking the percocet which controls the pain just fine. Claire continues to nurse and sleep like a champion little newborn and we all waste away the afternoon holding her and gazing at her little face. I'm on an all-liquid diet for the first day, but don't have any appetite anyway.

At around 4:30 my mom leaves to pick up Landon from daycare and take him to the hospital to meet his baby sister. The rest of my extended family returns to their hotel so that Landon won't be overwhelmed when he arrives at the hospital.

I am SO happy to see him and the introduction goes very well. At about 7:00 JP heads out to meet everyone for dinner. I encouraged him to go so I could have some alone time with my computer, my book, my baby, and perhaps get a bit of sleep. He comes back to sleep in the room with me and while holding Claire keeps commenting on how small and fragile she seems. I think she seems huge and hearty after Landon and all of his tubes in the NICU. Neither of us can really believe we've just been given our baby with no strings attached and that we can hold her as much as we want.

All in all, it was a perfect day. A c-section is a little weird in its speed and sterility, but I expected that and didn't think it took away from my birth experience- it was what was needed for my situation and I wouldn't change a thing. The nurses and doctors were all so friendly and the room felt very happy. My recovery has been great and I feel nearly as good one week out as I did after Landon's birth. We went on a walk around our circle yesterday and I move around with ease. I've been off the narcotic since Wednesday and haven't had any ibuprofen since Thursday night- and not out of any attempt to be hero, I'm all for using medicine when needed, I just don't hurt. A little sore, a little stiff, but no real pain. My mom left yesterday morning and while we miss her, we've been doing just fine. Landon continues to be delighted by Claire's presence and Claire continues to sleep for a 6.5 hour stretch at night. She is taking a nap with her dad on the couch right now (actually, I'm the only living thing in this house who is not sleeping right now, and that's because I'm not tired - crazy!). We are all doing very, very well.

There's Someone I'd Like You To Meet

Claire Annalise
9:22 a.m.
8 lb. 10 oz.
21 inches of pink pudgy perfection



Everything went great, more later I promise.

It's Actually On My Outlook Calendar

Tomorrow morning, at or around 9 a.m., I will meet my baby girl. Our bags are packed, my mom is here. The co-sleeper is set up in our bedroom and the new changing table is stocked with teeny tiny diapers. The nursery cheerfully awaits its baby with a closet filled with clothes organized by size, color, and type.

All four of my grandparents, an aunt, my sister, brother, dad, and mom will all be here at various points in the next few days to meet the newest member of our family. Landon is so excited about his baby sister. He calls her by name and told his daycare teacher this morning that "today is the last day I'll be all alone." She said she was confused at first and asked him if he was saying that because he was going to be a big brother tomorrow. He nodded with a grin and said yes, "tomorrow our baby is coming to be with us." I have no idea where he got the wording about being alone, as we've certainly never phrased it that way, but I know that I can't wait to see them together, even if I teared up a little while tucking him in bed tonight. Our last night as a family of three. I won't be here when he wakes up in the morning and my three nights in the hospital will be the longest I've ever been away from him. But he'll have his Papa and Gigi to go to the park and take long walks with, so I know he'll be just fine. Plus he'll be coming to visit us at the hospital in his super special big brother t-shirt.

Tomorrow I will not be pregnant anymore. Tomorrow I will hold my daughter. It's completely surreal, but I can't wait!

Defying Gravity

It continues to amaze me that my belly can hold itself up without outside support (or stretch marks!). I know pregnancy is like the epitome of a natural process, but it is so bizarre to see something sticking as far out from my abdomen as my belly currently does.

5 more days!

Idle Musings: Family Planning

Still here, still gestating, and remarkably okay with the status quo. At this point we're so close to having my mom here and having everything go down in a nice, planned manner that I'm completely at peace with staying enormously pregnant until next Friday. It's only 7 days. In fact, exactly one week from today I should be holding my baby girl! Even I can wait that long.

It is remarkable to think that at this point in my pregnancy with Landon I had a 3 week old baby at home. I still tend to think of our daughter in fetal terms, but then I look at a picture of Landon sleeping in his papasan chair at 21 days old and think wow, that's our baby girl right now, except she's all squished inside my belly alongside the frosted cookies. Amazing.

Last night JP randomly turned to me and said he wished we were having twins. My look must have reflected something like, "have you lost your mind?!" because he immediately explained, saying that then we would be done and wouldn't have to wonder if we were having any more children. I hadn't realized he was spending so much time thinking about our future family planning, but I guess I have too. It's nothing I'm obsessing over, but I do find myself wondering if I'll be doing this again. Will I get these maternity clothes back out of the guest closet for my own use? Will a little boy of mine wear Landon's old clothes? Will I get to use my baby boy name? Will I decorate another nursery or will my next project be turning it into a guest room? Little thoughts.

It's such a big thing -- 2 v. 3 children. It's a 50% increase. So it seems a little odd to me that we're so uncertain as to our plans, and yet, how can you know? We have yet to experience life with two. Maybe we'll find a feeling of completeness? Or maybe it will be more of an awareness that we've reached our limit as to the number of children we can effectively parent. In a purely theoretical sense I would like to have three. Well, actually I would like four. I grew up as one of three, and JP was an only child- when we got married we both of us agreed we wanted as large a family as possible. And maybe that's two. I'd be done with pregnancy. I could get back to my normal weight and just stay there. I could permanently pack/give away the maternity and baby stuff as we get through each new stage with our baby girl. We could start talking about some of those vacations I want to take when our youngest is out of the baby/toddler years. I think about daycare for a third child for five years- an extra $60,000. More than any of that I think about managing the schedules of three active kids with two working adults and wonder if we could give enough of ourselves to three.

And then I wonder how people know. My mom said that when my sister was born (baby #2) she knew she wasn't done, and when my brother was born, she knew she was. I know other families who knew they were done at two, had a surprise third baby, and found their family complete in a way that it wasn't before. I figure it's something we'll keep in the back of our minds for a while and revisit in a year of so. But if we're done, I kind of wish I knew that now. Maybe I could enjoy these last few days of pregnancy a little more? Maybe I could find a little extra appreciation of our little girl's newborn newness? Perhaps the fact that I don't know means that we're not done. I think I might be a little sad if we decide in a year that we're complete as a family of four and I need to go back and give a belated goodbye to the baby things I'd been saving just in case.

What about you? If you're done expanding your family, did you know that by the time your last one was born? Or was it something you decided or realized later?

On another note entirely, what do you think of the new blog look? I've wanted to change it for months but these things intimidate me. I think I like it - it's brighter and more cheerful than the old look, but I'm still fiddling (at least to the extent that I can fiddle, I really don't know a thing about html, coding, etc.).

And in closing, 7 more days!

Still Pregnant

Well JP's chosen day has come and gone. He thought I'd go into labor on Tuesday but here we are on Wednesday morning and our baby girl still seems quite content to stay in her increasingly tight quarters. We're at 37 weeks and 5 days and I'm starting to get worried that we did too good of a job convincing her of the coziness and general awesomeness of the womb. But every additional day brings benefits and extra fat rolls (to the baby and me) and I shouldn't complain much since I'm really feeling just fine.

I've compiled the guesses from the last post into a little list (updated):

- May 27th, after 3 pm (Chrisy in Chicago)
- May 28 (Meegs)
- May 30 (Kelly)
- May 31 (Gillian, LT)
- June 1 (Liv, Lisa M, jwg)
- June 3 (Jen)
- June 4 (Procrastamom, MJS, JLS)

My guess, for what it's worth, is May 29th. I don't really think I have any additional insight into what my body and baby are planning than anyone else (seriously, Landon's early arrival was a total shock to me), it just seems poetic that my daughter would arrive on the very day my best friend is getting married in Houston. I'm supposed to be a bridesmaid in that wedding and I remain devastated to be missing it- not only because she and I are so close, but also because her family knows how to throw one hell of a party.

As far as names, Hanah guessed Anabelle, Kira, Veronica, Kendall, and Stella, Kelly guessed Adrienne, and Anonymous on the Graduated! post guessed Avery. I had a dream last night that I was surprised with quadruplets and I was absolutely panicked about naming three other babies. Note that I wasn't at all concerned about caring for three additional children, I was just upset that I couldn't name them. Even after I woke up I continued trying to think of extra names.

(a windy shot before JP's graduation dinner)

Meanwhile my belly continues to defy gravity, physics, and the length of my maternity shirts. I'm reconciled to waiting until June 4th- it's only 9 days away, but as fewer of my clothes fit and it gets increasingly hard to sleep, I wouldn't mind at all if she debuted sooner.

The Rest of the Weekend

Cliff's Notes version: JP is graduated. My in-laws are back in Maryland. I am still pregnant.

On Saturday I spent the morning lying around the house recovering from the physical exertion of the night before. My in-laws came over for an hour or so to see Landon while JP and I ran out to get some lunch. They left at Landon's nap time and I spend a few more hours lazing about the house wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself if this baby waits until June 4th to be born.

We all got back together at 5:00 for a fancy graduation dinner at Shoreline Grill. My sister, her boyfriend, and a few of JP's MBA classmates (our Indians, as we fondly call them) were able to celebrate with us since their families couldn't travel to Austin for the festivities. It was a lovely dinner and Landon was very good at the fancy restaurant even if he didn't eat a single thing. After dinner everyone gathered back at our house to eat the delicious cake that Landon and I baked the day before and to play washers in the backyard. Eating and beating people at games are JP's two favorite things in the world besides swimming, so I'd say his graduation celebration was a big success.

(Please excuse the pastel orange icing. We didn't have enough food coloring for burnt orange and I had exhausted all my creative juices after coming up with the idea to stick some of the homemade cream cheese icing into a ziploc bag to pipe out a message on top.)

On Sunday I had a massage (possibly/hopefully my last prenatal one) and then after some more lazing about the house, we decided to take Landon to the pool.

It is a testament to how much I love my child, and perhaps to how seriously bored I am at home, that I put on a swim suit at 37.5 weeks pregnant and wore it in a crowded public place. My maternity suit is black with a white stripe and I felt like a giant orca in a sea of slimmer, sexier dolphins. But the water felt nice.

At first Landon wasn't so sure about the big pool (the baby pool was closed for reasons I don't want to know about). He never went in it last summer, though we didn't really try to acclimate him. JP was doing so much coaching that the last thing he wanted to do after an 8-hour saturday swim meet was go back to the same pool with us, and it was so horrifically hot outside that not even the pool sounded as refreshing as staying indoors wearing as little clothes as possible with the AC on. But Landon was very excited about his shark swimwear and so strangely confident in his ability to swim ("Mommy let me go, I want to SWIM!") that he quickly became fearless.

He starts swim lessons in June, so hopefully we can keep him safe from his overestimation of his abilities until them.

The outing was a great way to waste away the afternoon and cap off the weekend. Now I'm back at work, having lots of irritatingly unproductive Braxton-Hicks contractions, and feeling very ready for this baby to be born. For whatever reason, JP has decided that tomorrow is the big day- if you would like to record your own prediction as to the day, name, or anything else, please do! It'll be fun to see if anyone gets it right.

Transitions and Maternity Leave

16 days to go. I am an official graduate of Texas Perinatal Group pre-term labor prevention program. I wanted a certificate I could frame in my office, but all my nurse practitioner could get me was a signed picture of the Marine One Helicopter outside the White House. Her husband flew it during the Clinton administration and I had mentioned in a previous appointment that Landon was obsessed with "hepatopters". The picture was propped up by his bed last night and he carefully carried it down to breakfast with him this morning. I suppose that's better than a certificate. I will miss my NP. Not so much with the weekly appointments, and definitely not the weekly shots, but I will miss talking to her. She was a wonderful complement to my OB and I've felt very well cared for throughout this pregnancy.

And speaking of my pregnancy, I'm having stronger and more frequent Braxton-Hicks contractions, particularly at night. One actually woke me up at 3:00 this morning and I swore I was going into labor (I think I was simultaneously dreaming that my water had broken, but it had not). I'm a little more dilated- my first change since that appointment at 32 weeks. I've politely asked my baby girl to stay inside my belly through Friday which is both 37-weeks, full-term, and JP's MBA graduation. I think she will cooperate.

Work is strange right now because I feel like I could disappear at any moment. I clean up my desk each evening and try to leave my assignments in a good place for someone else to pick up. I've been relatively slow since my giant case settled back in February, which has probably been great for my prenatal health, but it has been annoying to me professionally. I like being busy and I like having big chunks or roles in cases. Instead I've been on the periphery of several matters, getting lots of varied experience in drafting smaller motions and doing discrete research assignments. There's positives to that, and I've learned a lot, but I look forward to coming back after maternity leave to a section that is hopefully busier and getting staffed on a case I can sink my teeth into.

And speaking of coming back, I am blazing an odd new trail of being the first woman in my section in three years to come back after only the 3-months paid leave. We get 12-weeks paid, up to 12-weeks more unpaid, and then 3 months of optional phasing in where you spend a month at 50, 60, and then 70% (and are paid at 60% throughout that 3-month period). My section has had a baby boom and pretty much every eligible female is either pregnant, on maternity leave, or recently returned from maternity leave and all have done the full 9-month option. I plan to take my 12 weeks and come back full-time, something every associate has tried to talk me out of. It's gotten to the point where I'm almost defensive about it- I feel like I did when everyone told me how they cried and cried when they dropped their baby off at daycare for the first time but then I dropped of Landon with a big smile on my face (and then picked him up at the end of the day with an even bigger smile). Like maybe my lack of tears means I'm a terrible mother, but damnit why should I feel guilty for not being sad when I know that he's perfectly fine and on that day I felt happier and more like myself than I had in all eight weeks I was home with him?

So maternity leave. Twelve weeks of paid leave- more than I got with Landon and more paid leave than any US employer is required to give (since that requirement is ZERO). I'm looking forward to it. I have another 2 weeks of vacation in reserve that I can tack on if desired, so that's nice too. The reasons I'm not taking the unpaid leave are because (1) it's UNPAID and we don't know JP's job situation and we simply cannot responsibly go without any income for any period of time (well we could, we have an emergency fund, but using it would require an emergency), and (2) our neighborhood daycare, which we adore and which our baby girl has a guaranteed spot at the start of the school year, begins on August 23rd. If we don't enroll her and start paying the $1,100/month on that date, we lose the spot until the following year. August 23rd happens to coincide perfectly with my 12 weeks of leave, and even gives me a transitional week or two to still be home but have the option of taking her to daycare for short days. So not only would my additional 12 weeks be unpaid, we would be paying $2,100/month for daycare during that time... that time while I'm not being paid.

Secret reason number 3 is that I don't want those extra 12 weeks at home. Even if it was an option- if I was sitting on a stockpile of cash and we didn't have huge student loan payments and daycare didn't cost more than our mortgage, the idea of the first twelve weeks makes me nervous enough. I enjoyed my time with infant Landon, but I wasn't nearly as happy as I was once law school started up again. JP even commented on my second day back that I was singing while making dinner- he said he couldn't remember the last time I did that. I have no doubt that two kids will be harder, and that our schedule will need some adjusting, but overall this working thing works and I don't feel any need to dig ourselves into a huge financial hole for 12 more weeks at home.

I'm really excited about this summer. JP will be home for at least part of it, our baby girl will be home, Landon will stay in "daycay" but we'll be able to get him early each day and go on walks, go to the pool, etc. We have visitors lined up and our first official family vacation booked. I think it's going to be great. And then I'll go back to work, and that will be great too.

Gold Star

We are officially past the point in my pregnancy when I (very surprisingly!) went into labor with Landon. He was about 2 days old and looked like this:

It is so hard to believe that that little guy is now this big little guy:

We are all very excited to reach this milestone. I'm 36 weeks pregnant tomorrow, which is sometimes considered full-term for a girl, particularly for lung development. And then I'm officially full term next Friday, on the day of JP's graduation, and we're good to go! It would still be lovely if she stuck around until June 4th because then my mom would be done with high school teaching and already at our house to help out with Landon, but it will all work out however it happens.

Everything continues to look great at my appointmnets. No more dilation and just a little more effacement, which is all marvelously normal at this stage. I realized today as I drove away from the medical center after my OB appointment that I have attended thirty-one doctors appointments since October. I have three left. So that means that barring other complications, the fourth-to-next time I drive over to that area of town will be to have my baby. How awesome is that?!

It's strange to spend this much (and by "this much" I mean "any") time tthinking about and preparing for the birth. With Landon it was such a shock and I was so busy with work and moving that I really never thought about his arrival at all- I was certain I had at least another month to get to it. I came across this old post and cracked up. It's my 2007 summer schedule and note that on July 14th it says "first free weekend! time to prepare the apartment for the baby." That's the day my water broke.

So even packing a hospital bag is weird. For Landon all I had was what was in my purse and the short list I gave to JP to grab from the apartment after I was admitted to the hospital (the list consisted of: camera, camera charger, cell phone charger, laptop, laptop charger, contact case, glasses, and the only thing that really mattered was the camera). I was fine with all the hospital stuff until the last day when JP ran home again to get me a change of clothes to wear out. So I already know you don't really need half of the stuff those babycenter lists tell you to bring for the hospital stay, but it is nice to know that this time I'll at least have my own toothbrush. And my camera has been living in my purse since April, just in case.

Quick Post (while I think of something to say that does not revolve around my pregnancy)

I finally have a new All Kinds of Pretty post up: "High-Heeled and Pregnant: Embrace the Belly". Because really, at this point, what else can you do with it?

(And, spoiler alert- I'm no longer high-heeled. Well I am today, but I wasn't on Monday or Tuesday. Venturing into the world of flats has been both fun and comfortable, but none of the ones I'm wearing are technically work appropriate- I just trust that no one is going to say anything to a hugely pregnant woman about her choice in footwear, especially when said footwear is still cute and shiny. Because sadly, no matter which brand or size I try, closed toe flats just kill my feet. Something about their narrowness and tallness and the fact that they've been conditioned to find 3" heels comfortable and get confused when the heel and toes are on the same horizontal plane, and they express this confusion through pain and blisters.)

Also, I had my perinatal appointment yesterday and everything looks great! Next up is an OB appointment and ultrasound tomorrow. I never made it to the 35/36-week ultrasound with Landon, so I'm excited to get this last in-utero glimpse of my baby girl!

When There's Nothing Left To Do But Wait

And now I'll make a less whiny attempt at describing my 35th week of pregnancy. Oh, I still feel, and am, huge:

Exhibit A (for it's Awkward posing Alone)

(especially when your husband refuses to take more than one shot of a picture and gives you no warning before he presses the button)


Exhibit B (for Bam! it's a Big Belly!)

but I have some good stuff to talk about. Not really about the pregnancy itself because I still don't like it and I hate this part most of all (this part with the unrelenting hugeness), but I am greatly enjoying hanging out 1-on-1 with my Lanman and I am at least trying to enjoy this calm before the newborn storm.

The Landon enjoyment is easy. He is deee-lightful, a little bouncing ball of sweetness and light (at least 97% of the time). He talks non-stop and I still can't get over how awesome it is that we get to have conversations together- conversations about all kinds of exciting things like roly poly bugs, the existence of rainbows, and what shoes mommy is going to wear to work this morning (he likes to pick them out for me, and while I always wear them while getting ready, I can't say they're usually the pair that end up making the cut for leaving the house). He gives the best hugs and is so funny and full of love... I don't really know what else I can say about him except that I thought I couldn't possibly love and enjoy him more at 2 1/2 and somehow find that I do both 10x more at 2 3/4. How will I handle 3?

We took the suggestion of a commenter (you guys have such good stuff) and bought him the "I'm A Big Brother" book by Joanna Cole. He loves it! We read it approximately 6 times a day and when we turn the first page (which says "Someone new is at our house, do you know who it is?"), he excitedly squeals, "It's OUR BABY!!" And now the baby is always referred to as "our baby" and he loves to visit "our baby's" room and look at "our baby's" clothes and is always quick to remind us that "our baby" will like to be "warm and cozy" (as per the book) and he can help! But, as the book tells him, he, the Big Brother, is also very special and mommy and daddy love him very much. It's good stuff, even when repeated ten times a day. I can't wait to watch play and grow with his little sister, even as a part of me mourns the end of our days as as family of three. The last 2 years with him have been very, very special for JP and me- healing, really, and I treasure the moments and memories they've given me.

I've been far less successful at enjoying my own pre-baby down time. As I was telling JP last night, the last month of pregnancy is so unfair because you know you should be enjoying your long nights and easy mornings, but you're so uncomfortable and so tired of waiting that you just want the baby to get her NOW so you can start the whole crazy journey that you can't stop thinking about anyway. Plus, I am just not good at sitting, and I'm going a bit nuts. There is nothing left for me to do to prepare for our baby girl's arrival - her room is finished, down to every practical detail I could think of, and we have a fully-stocked baby suite in our master bedroom with a changing table, co-sleeper with coordinating sheets, itty bitty diapers, newborn wipes, burp cloths, etc. I even found a brushed silver lamp in our attic that matches our room and will allow us to be up changing the baby's diaper at night without turning on the bright overhead light (don't tell my doctor I was up in the attic, I just wanted to check the organizational status of our Christmas decorations). My hospital bag is packed, with a list of the items I need to grab on the day of. I even have a folder for my mom (or whoever is with Landon when I go into labor) with a map of our neighborhood, a highlighted route to his daycare, and maps to and from the hospital so they can visit. The baby book is as filled in as it can be without attempting to predict the future (I'm so tempted to fill in the birth details, just for the heck of it) and I've printed the address labels for her announcements. There is nothing for me to do. And work is slow, so I get nearly all of my personal to-do list tasks (which I would normally be doing at night), as well as my aimless internet surf time (again, normally done at night), done there. I need all the TV series I've been hearing are so good to go back to episode 1 so I can start watching- I suddenly regret our years of failing to turn the TV on at night. Maybe it will be better when JP is done with school (this Friday!!) and he can emerge from the closed-door study to keep me company.

But as I wait for the big day, I will continue to enjoy being "cozy" with Landon on the couch (probably reading "I'm a Big Brother" for the ten millionth time) and going on very slow walks around the block with him (yesterday we made five separate stops to let a roly poly cross our path to safety; which was great because mommy can't keep up with the Spider Man big wheel anymore). And I will enjoy tucking him in and hearing him talk about how "our baby" is going to sleep in his room when she gets bigger. And I will enjoy taking long baths at night and eating all the cookie cake I want before I go back to clothes with waistbands. I will enjoy all of these things and still secretly count down the seconds until I get to hold my baby girl and my life turns crazy once again.

(31 more days.)

Uff Da

I don't know how prevalent the word "uff da" (according to Wikipedia, also known as uff-da, uffda, uff-dah, oofda, ufda, ufdah, oofta or ufta) is outside of my family, but it is a marvelous Scandinavian phrase that can be used in many circumstances.

For example, when you get a new assignment to review a depo transcript for certain admissions and you open up the PDF to find that it's 400 pages long- Uff da. Or, when you check your credit card bill thinking it should be low because you haven't left the house in days but then remember all that online shopping done from your couch- Uff da. Or, when you go to pick something up only to find it's 3x heavier than you predicted- Uff da. It can be used in so many situations.

And it pretty well sums up how I feel at 34.5 weeks pregnant. I've noticed that I say it a lot lately. But when getting up off the couch takes momentum and skill and maybe a few false starts- it's the perfect expression, besides cursing, which I try not to do around Landon. And Landon has picked it up (which reinforces why I can't curse)! This morning when he was redecorating his playroom by moving his big red chair, I heard a little "uff da" float down the hall. It cracked me up - hearing your own phrases come out of your toddler's mouth has got to be one of my top five favorite things about being a parent.

(not relevant, but I love this picture from yesterday)

But back to me and the uff-da-ness of pregnancy. I am DONE. I feel huge. I am huge. My belly is a giant roadblock in the middle of my body. I can't lean over to pick things up without knocking into its immovable barrier. When I want to switch the slide I'm sleeping on at night, I have slowly rotate the belly until it reaches the halfway point and then I can let gravity roll me the rest of the way. If I accidentally flip on my back I wake up gasping for air because my lungs are being squished by my 20 lb. baby (yes, she's 20 lbs., it's the only way my total weight gain makes sense). Fewer and fewer of my maternity clothes fit and even sitting on the couch while reading a book is getting uncomfortable. I miss being skinny, I miss my waist, I miss my old clothes. I miss sex. I miss feeling sexy. Instead, I feel big and blah and whiny and done.

But I am not done. I have 4 weeks and 5 days to go. And after having a premature baby who lived in the NICU for two weeks, I know that I don't really want my baby girl to arrive early. Even when sometimes I do.

But really I don't. 33 days to go. Uff-da.

Steam of Consciousness Update

I've been drafted onto an absurdly complicated patent law case because our battalion of IP lawyers was swamped and we needed to quickly respond to a Motion for Continuance in a federal action. A call for help was sent out for a "top researcher and writer" from our general litigation group, and apparently I was nominated. A dubious honor, I've decided.

Luckily, there is a parallel ITC action (as is, apparently, common in patent disputes) and a Motion to Stay was filed there. Our esteemed co-counsel, another highly ranked BigLaw firm wrote the response, and I was told I should pretty much be able to copy it and then add a few modifications to personalize it for federal court.

I opened up the document yesterday morning and yeah, no, copying was not going to work. So I dug in. I researched patent law standards and procedures, I researched the history of our case, I learned that the shorthand way to refer to a patent involves a backwards little apostrophe, something that only the cool kids on the IP inside track know. My promised due date for sending my draft to the senior associate on the case was "late afternoon" which morphed to "this evening" which stretched into "by the end of the day" which eventually became 1:15 a.m., or "you'll have it when you wake up in the morning."

And my thoughts about the brief I was writing went from, "this is going to be pretty good" to "oh my god this is crap" to "well maybe I can make it pretty good crap" back to "nope, no I cannot" to sending the email attachment at 1:15 with a hope that it was at least written in English with proper citations. Then my first thought this morning was "well, maybe I was just tired and overly negative last night- maybe it's actually really awesome!" to sitting down and reading it with my tea this morning and deciding it was completely within the bounds of acceptability but nothing that would blow anyone away. And thus my motion's evolution was complete.

So far I have yet to hear from any of the patent people, so I'm not sure what they think of my draft, but I'm comfortable with it and know it is a substantial improvement from what was submitted in the parallel action. I think I was supposed to just update the case law and terminology, but once I get in a document it's very hard not to turn editing into re-writing, especially when you know you can make it better. And I know that all my little apostrophes are facing the right direction, which I am told, is super important.

Oh, and the other big event of yesterday: my perinatal check-up and my total lack of progress on the cervical front. Yay! I'm a little effaced, but show no further dilation or other changes, so my nurse practitioner was very pleased and told me to just continue with the general goal of resting as much as possible until we hit 36 weeks. Which is only 2.5 weeks away! JP has been doing just about everything for me at home; I think he's petrified that I might go into labor before his finals and presentations are over on May 7. I do a lot of sitting and thinking of things to organize, and then I go organize them while sitting. Our bathroom drawers are beautiful and our linen closet is a triumph of rainbow-order.

So that's where I am, personally, professionally, and cervically. I am 33 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I billed enough yesterday to make up for my 2-hour accidental shopping trip at Gap Body last Friday (everything was on sale- I bought 6 things and not one of them cost more than $7!) and the fact that I spend too much time each day on baby-related non-billable things. My feet are starting to swell, but I'm in cute silver flat sandals and feel otherwise fine. Landon told me I was "so pretty" this morning, even though I was bleary eyed and huge and weigh an apallingly high amount of pounds.

Ooh and I just got an email from the IP associate with a "nicely done!". Excellent. I'm buying myself a Double Doozie at American Cookie Company after lunch.

Showered and Ready

I've probably reached that point in my pregnancy where I shouldn't go more than a day or two without updating my blog just in case people start thinking I went into labor.

I haven't:

But I did have a baby shower! A quartet of co-workers threw a lovely one for me at lunch on Thursday. It was so fun to be showered in dresses and ruffles and girlyness. I've gone through all of Landon's old clothes and plan for my daughter to wear about 90% of them, and I don't think my baby cares much about her wardrobe or proving her gender to anyone who passes, but oh my goodness little girl clothes are adorable. And my baby girl made out like a bandit:

Landon was excited the baby got so many presents and was a far more captive audience than JP when I went back through each one. He was especially intrigued by the size 1 diapers in a gift basket. After considering them thoughtfully for several minutes, he finally concluded that they would fit on his hands- though he did not explain why his hands might need diapers.

Landon's other favorite gifts consisted of a little green elephant (which he has adopted "so it will have a friend"), a pair of teeny pink crocs (which he slept with last night), and a wee shirt with fish all over it ("FISHIES mama! Fishies for the baby!!"). He's been talking more and more about his sister. Last night at dinner he randomly started telling JP and I about babies. We were informed very seriously that "Babies are fragile. And they cry. Babies sleep a lot of the time. And we have to be careful with them." JP and I found it very educational.

I spent today washing and hanging all her clothes. Her closet is an array of color and her room is completely complete.

All that's missing is the baby. I really just can't wait to meet her. (Except that I can. I can wait until you're full-term- do you hear me little girl?)

Week 33: Hippos and Ankles

I am now two days shy of 33 weeks, and I feel like this:

It's like my body just realized I was pregnant-- really pregnant. I feel slow and large and blah. My feet got a little swollen on Monday after my flight and long day of training in Houston. I wore flip flops to our workshop dinner (fancy golden flip flops! totally work appropriate) and when I took them off back in my hotel room I could see the grooves where the straps had been. Then on Tuesday I wore a dress and by midday I was horrified to see that I was losing the curve of my ankle. I had forgotten how unattractive it is when your leg just extends straight into your foot, and I can see why showing a little curvy ankle was seen as so sexy and scandalous in Victorian England. The way mine looked on Tuesday would inspire lust in no one, except perhaps the rhino pictured above.

Then last night my entire left calf muscle seized up in a horrific spasm from 3:05-3:17 a.m. It spread to my left foot and then my right calf and I was crying and holding my leg and it was so very painful. JP woke up about halfway through and said something helpful like, "you should drink more water during the day" and claimed to have no memory of the entire episode this morning. Next time I'm hitting him over the head with my alarm clock. If I'm in pain, he should be too. (And don't worry, it's a small alarm clock- no permanent damage.)

Today my ankles had regained their natural curvature and I was feeling pretty good. I went to my perinatal appointment for my weekly counseling session/health check. My nurse practitioner was glad to hear that I had grounded myself in Austin with no plans to do anything but go to work and hang out at home until my daughter is born. She was less glad to hear I had a wee bit of spotting over the weekend and that my Braxton-Hicks contractions had doubled. She found some blood in my urine sample, and upon examination, discovered that I was ever so slightly dilated. I've been checked every week since #28 and this was the first notable change. Because she's wonderful, she expressed some concern, but no overt worry. She stressed that I could stay at a centimeter for weeks and for all we know I did this exact thing last time. But because I am still a month away from full term, she advised that I take a few precautions. No more sex. (Of course, it's like we've on some sort of crash sex diet for this entire pregnancy.) And I should attempt what she called House Rest. Not Bed Rest- I can still go to work, but I should make a concerted effort to rest and relax, keep my feet up, etc. No big days of errands, no more travel, no exercise (no problem!). And then we'll see where I am next week.

So that's what I'm doing. I feel good and quite calm. I'm really grateful for my weekly perinatal checks. I'm such an under-reacter/non-worrier that I need the frequent reminders that my actions affect my pregnant body in ways that would never bother my normal self. My nurse practitioner walks the line well, and with the exception of that first visit, I have always left the office feeling better than before I entered. She has worked exclusively in the "pre-term prevention program" for 11 years and is just so knowledgeable. I see my OB tomorrow and it will be interesting to see what she says as well. I completely believe I'm going to get to at least 35 weeks, and I'm even more determined to be grateful for every day I'm pregnant, even if I hate my ankles and grow frighteningly close to outweighing my 6'3" husband.

From an Only to a Brother

Landon has been wearing his "Big Brother" t-shirt for the last two days, so I figured this was a good time to talk about his upcoming transition to sibling. People keep asking if he's excited about the baby, and it's hard to say - to the extent that he grasps the concept, he's very excited about it. When we go up to the nursery he likes to point out where the baby will sleep and talk about how "we don't hurt the baby" and "babies like to sleep a lot." A bunch of his friends at daycare are new siblings- maybe this is something they're talking about while eating sand? He also likes to bring toys into the nursery and leave them behind for the baby- then after a few days go by and there's still no baby, he'll take them back and replace them with new ones. He probably can't figure out why the baby won't just come home to be with us and he's trying to sweeten the deal.

As I wrote about last week, Landon did FINALLY notice my big belly. Up until then, I think he thought the baby lived at the doctor because whenever I said I was going to the doctor he would ask if I was going to see the baby and tell me to give it a kiss. I figured a baby living at the doctor made as much sense as a baby living in my belly, so we didn't push it. Then, about a day or two after the great moment of belly awareness, Landon asked where the baby was. I told him it was in mommy's tummy. He said, "no it's not, it's at the doctor" and then walked off with his train. One day after that he told me that he had a very little baby in his tummy and I had a bigger one in my tummy AND there was a really big baby at the doctor. So we have three babies. I think. I'm not really clear myself. He does like to pat my belly and tells me that the baby is sleeping, so he seems to have some grasp of the baby in the belly concept. We're kind of just gliding along, answering his questions when he asks them and talking about the baby when he does.

I remain so excited for the two of them to meet and I'm optimistic that he will do well with his little sister. He loves babies and was the only toddler to reach out to the new babies whenever one graduated into his old daycare class. The teachers said he'd bring them toys and hand them things on the playground, while the other kids didn't really notice the new additions. He'll continue to go to daycare throughout the summer (though I hope and plan to pick him up early), so his universe won't be completely rocked. In the evenings when we're together, JP will be home to help out, so I should still be able to have lots of Landon-mommy time. And he's also just such a mellow kid- very little seems to phase him. At least I hope it goes well; I was just thinking tonight as I tucked him in bed that sometimes I can't believe how much I love him, and I can't believe I'm soon going to have two little ones to love that much. It's amazing one heart can hold it all.

My biggest concern about the entire event is what we'll do with Landon if I go into labor prior to my 39-week c-section date. It's so different having to worry about a pre-existing child this time around. We're lucky to have friends nearby who have volunteered to help out, but they have jobs and kids of their own and I'd still feel like JP should leave the hospital to come be with Landon once the baby is born so that the little guy will have some normalcy. Hopefully my mom and/or dad can come over quickly from Houston, but my mom still has to teach until June 3 so she couldn't stay long. My worst case scenario involves JP needing to stay at the house with Landon at night while I stay alone at the hospital. I actually like hospitals, so it's not that I'm afraid, I just hate having to bug the nurses for all the little comforts I may randomly need - it's so much better to have a JP sleeping next to me who can get my chapstick and hold my hand and plug in my cell phone into the charger.

Overall, I'm just ridiculously excited about meeting this baby girl and watching Landon meet and get to know his little sister.

P.S. I'm flying to Houston for a 2-day workshop at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning, but if you miss me, here's my last two All Kinds of Pretty posts as well as a link to a great giveaway!

A Post About the Posts I Meant to Write

So, it's been a few days. I couldn't write on Friday because Landon and I made an impromptu trip to Houston for my dad's birthday. Birthdays always make him sad and my mom has been so overwhelmingly busy with school work (both from teaching two preps and being a full time masters student) that I thought Landon and I could make the weekend a bit more cheerful. Plus, JP had a ton of his own schoolwork to do, so I thought we'd give him the weekend to be extra productive in a quiet house. (Too quiet, as he kept telling me when he'd call just to hear our voices; I love how my introverted, only-child husband has come to dislike an empty house.)

On Saturday Landon, my dad, and I headed to the Houston Zoo. If you live nearby and haven't been, go. It's awesome.

Landon, crawling through a piranha tank

Unfortunately, despite a morning weather report titled "No Rain for a While," it rained, a lot. And it was cold. We were all dressed in shorts and short-sleeves and failed to bring an umbrella, something my uber-prepared dad found rather horrifying. He'd even asked about bringing an umbrella several times that morning, only to be brushed off by my mom and me. But still, we had fun.

Landon, popping his head up in the prairie dog habitat

For whatever reason, Landon alternated between being delightful and whiny/crabby for the first two hours we were there. This meant that I, without thinking about my easily injured back, my 31-week pregnant state, and my 35 lb. dead weight of a toddler, leaned over to pick him up many, many times. My dad always took over and spent much of the time carrying Landon on his shoulders and making him laugh by running into tree branches, but I still did way more bending and lifting than I should have. I honestly just forget how quickly things become "too much" and by the time we got home my back was very, very angry.

That evening I made my dad a carrot cake birthday cake from scratch with this amazing recipe. I don't even like carrot cake and I could eat this one until I burst. Landon was sooooo excited about the "cake with all the carrots in it" but waited patiently while we ate an delicious steak dinner, sang the birthday song, and then finally cut the cake.

So that is what I intended to write on Saturday night, but instead I passed out around 10 pm. Landon woke up cranky and went on a long walk with his papa while I packed our things. He returned full of smiles and we piled in the car for what should have been an easy 3 hour drive home.

But it was not. It was 4 hours of hell. Landon screamed and yelled for 75% of the trip. He slept for 30 minutes, and he talked and sang happily to himself for the other 30. My back was in a lot of pain, with a constant dull ache accompanied by spasms of sharp pain shooting up from my tailbone every time I moved my foot from the gas to the brake. I tried to use cruise control but ten million people decided it would be a great idea to take pictures in the freaking wildflowers on the side of the highway, and even though they could pull over with plenty of room on the shoulder, everyone else who drove by thought they needed to slow down to 10 mph and create a stop-and-go traffic situation for miles and miles along Highway 290. We finally entered the Austin city limits, only to be stuck in terrible traffic on I-35 and I was in so much pain and Landon was yelling and I was having very strong and very frequent braxton-hicks contractions and I wanted to cry.

We finally pulled into our driveway and I got out of the car, abandoned the yelling Landon, and walked in the house. JP came out to the kitchen with a huge smile on his face, so excited that we were home, and I just glared at him and informed him that his son was still in the car and I was taking a bath and please just leave me alone for a few hours.

I took my bath, took a muscle relaxer for my back, and crawled into bed. It was 4:30 p.m. JP took Landon somewhere (to the grocery store and park, I later found out) and my braxton-hicks contractions slowed to a stop. I then slept for 15 hours, not waking up until 8 a.m. the next morning. JP said he checked on me a few times, and even shook me a little at one point to make sure I was responsive, but I was out.

And that's why there was no post on Sunday. Then I didn't write one yesterday because I was still nursing a bad mood hangover. But today I'm much better. Landon is cheerful and charming, my back is much recovered, and today's perinatal appointment revealed no bad effects from my four stressful hours in the car. I head to Chicago tomorrow for a 1-day recruiting trip to the law school and I am SO EXCITED about 36 hours in my favorite city. Perfect spring weather, meals with friends, a night at the Four Seasons, a slow stroll down Michigan Avenue... oh and a few hours chatting with 1Ls about the firm. Hooray!

66 Weeks Pregnant - now illustrated!

Scene: Our master bathroom, this morning.

Landon: I'm a big boy. And daddy is a big daddy. And Tex is a big doggie.

JP/Me: (nodding, making general noises of agreement while getting dressed)

Landon: And Rosie is a big doggie. And Lilly is a big kitty.

[I suddenly turn to the side, revealing to maximum effect my giant belly that is somehow made to look even bigger in my purple top.]

Landon, with eyes as big as saucers: And Mommy is a BIG Mommy.

JP, laughing: Yes, but we don't tell her that.

---------------------

So yes I am 66 weeks pregnant and have the belly to prove it. I've decided to start adding in the 35 weeks I was pregnant with Landon because only that number accurately reflects how pregnant I feel. Everything continues to go well so I shouldn't complain- I'm not swelling, my blood pressure is super low, and I have no stretch marks or any other nefarious pregnancy symptoms, but I am just so tired of it. I miss my waist and my old clothes. I miss the way I used to be able to turn to the side to pass by something. I desperately miss wine and now that it's getting warmer, miss the possibility of a frozen margarita on an outdoor patio. Each morning I remain surprised to find this giant belly attachment that I need to swing out of the bed along with me. I have 8 weeks to go, and annoyingly enough, even in my most negative "I hate being pregnant" mood, I really do want to stay pregnant for the majority of them.

People have asked if it's been different being pregnant for a second time. Yes and no. At first I thought it went by much faster- and it did, until right about now when it has slowed to the same crawl that I remember from last time. I know even more now that I should be enjoying these last few weeks of uninterrupted sleep and time along with my little boy (who has morphed right back to his usual utterly charming and tantrum-less self), and yet I'm just as impatient to meet our baby girl as I was to meet Landon. That and I just seriously hate being pregnant and I'm ready to get back being the only one living in my body.

There are few differences. This time around I am way less focused on my weight gain, to the point of not noting it at all. I didn't do anything to attempt to restrict or control my weight gain last time (obviously, since I was +38 lbs. when Landon was born 5 weeks early), I just remember thinking about it a lot and always being aware of where I stood. But right now I couldn't even tell you how much I'd gained, though I think it's about 25-30 lbs. More than I was hoping, but nothing I'm concerned about (good thing, since I just ate a cookie the size of my head after lunch). The other major difference in this pregnancy is that I haven't done any pregnancy or baby-related reading at all. I barely even skim the babycenter.com updates that arrive every week. I think last time those emails and articles were my only connection to motherhood and my baby, so I reveled in them; whereas this time I've got a Landon running around who is SO much more fun than a fetus and I don't always need to know what variety of vegetable my baby looks like this week. Physically I feel about the same- maybe a little more tired, but I think that's because I have a Landon I want to play with after work rather than just a couch that needs to be sat upon (and also, I'm at work all day rather than just being a school for a few hours). But overall I don't feel like it's been too different this time around.

Lastly, I want to thank you all so much for your wonderful, helpful comments on my c-section post. I got so much from reading your stories, the positive and the negative, and from your advice- I even copied a bunch of them into a Word document for JP to read. So thank you. Thank you for understanding this sentence of the post, "I knew I had already made my decision as to how future babies would be exiting my body" and responding with your comments, experiences, and insights rather than judgment. It was all of tremendous help to me and will likely be a help to other women who google their way to that post as well.

57 more days!

(Not that I'm counting.)

Update! I got JP to grudgingly snap a picture of me after work today. I really need to start taking them in the morning when I haven't had my makeup on for 12 hours. But here's my 66-week belly, forever frozen in time:

The Stork Is Scheduled

My c-section is scheduled for Friday, June 4th, which means that regardless of what else happens, in 65 days I will have held my baby girl. This makes me smile in a very big way.

I mentioned my decision to opt for a c-section this time around in a very early pregnancy post, and as happens with these issues, people had opinions. They're interesting to read, especially since I frequently and gratefully rely on my blog to serve as a world-wide internet community of girlfriends, but there is one view that annoys me, and that is the one that assumes this is something my OB pushed me into doing. I am a smart, self-confident woman. If I had walked in my OB's office for my first maternity visit after a perfect vaginal birth and she recommended a c-section, I would have left to find a new doctor. My OB's white coat and status as an MD would not have affected my ability to think for myself one bit. This option was introduced by me alone.

You see for me, Landon's birth was perfect. It was very calm, relatively quick, nearly painless (at least until the very end), and resulted in only one little tear. I recovered quickly, running errands at Target by the end of the first week and happily regaining my sex life 4 weeks later. If I was the only party involved I wouldn't think twice about doing it again; in fact, I would give birth at least 3 times in a row if it meant getting out of a few of those pregnancy months.

But childbirth involves more than just me. There's a baby, and in Landon's case, that baby came out and developed dark purple bruises covering the entire top of his head, both sides of his body, and the bottoms of both feet. He was diagnosed with Respiratory Distress Syndrome, which is not unusual for preemies, but is somewhat rare for 35-weekers. And once he recovered from that, he de-satted for over a week, something the neonatologist said was unusual and very likely connected to the 7 broken ribs we discovered a few weeks later. (Her letter and testimony was very helpful at our DCFS appeal hearing.) We don't know- and will never know- that the birth process is what broke Landon's ribs, but it remains by far the most likely possibility (the other being that something happened to him while he was in the NICU) and I simply will not take a chance on that happening again. He was a perfectly average sized baby at 7 lb. 7 oz., and since this baby will hopefully bake a few weeks longer, she should be at least the same size or bigger, and we're not going to risk her getting stuck or injured in my screwed up pelvis.

Those are my medical reasons, and my doctor agrees with them. But it goes deeper than that, as I realized when I had my first OB/GYN check-up right after we moved to Austin- the idea of another bruised or injured baby terrified me. When I sat down in my OB's office to introduce myself, I was amazed to find the whole Chicago story spilling out of my mouth about 5 seconds after saying hello. I hadn't told it to anyone start-to-finish since it happened, so it was a little bumpy, but she listened patiently and we talked about my options. Well, she called them options, but I knew I had already made my decision as to how future babies would be exiting my body. I wasn't pregnant and had no plans on becoming so for at least a year, but I felt really good leaving her office knowing that she knew my full medical history (a history which includes my baby) and that she was at least on board with the possibility of a c-section. Throughout this pregnancy she has continued to phrase it as an option, but when we sat down to talk about the birth at my last appointment she agreed that it was the right one. I will be 39 weeks on June 4th. I really hope to stay pregnant that long and have come to believe that I will, but even if I don't, I'll just show up at the hospital and go straight to the OR. The peace of mind this has given me can't be put into words.

But, and this is the part where I'm really looking forward to your comments, while I am confident in my decision, that doesn't mean I'm not a little disconcerted by the idea of a scalpel-meets-belly birth. I never worried or thought much about labor the first time around. I figured I'd have a vaginal delivery, but if that didn't work out I trusted my midwife to make the right recommendations along the way. And my recovery was so easy- I felt back to 100% days before Landon was breathing regularly. I've had major surgery before- my hips were operated on in high school (as noted above, I have screwed up, turned-in hips that managed to tear through a bunch of cartilage not normally rubbed by your pelvic bones and it had to be cleaned out), but this is abdominal surgery and that's different (though it can't be much worse than major joint surgery, I had to have walking lessons after that). Still, it sounds like recovery will be harder than a vaginal delivery and I worry that it will take a long time for me to be able to pick up my baby and play with Landon like normal.

So for those who have had one, how was the recovery for you? Is there anything you recommend that I have on hand post-birth, either at home or at the hospital? And this isn't medical, but I almost cry when I think about being away from Landon for the four days I'll be in the hospital. Sure he can visit, but it's not the same and I'm going to miss him so much.

And yet, 65 days. I can't freaking wait.