28 years and 19 months and 30 weeks

I know I never post anymore. I've been busy. And lazy.

T-Rex is 19 months now. So far, I have to say that I love the toddler stage. He is such a happy, curious, lovely little human. He plays independently. He cuddles and listens to me read books. HE SLEEPS THROUGH THE NIGHT (most of the time). He goes places and does things. He's learning words but not is not yet at the exhausting chatterbox preschooler stage. It's lovely.

He likes cars, dogs, bunnies, birds, and water. He adores fruit, especially bananas and blueberries, and will eat it all day long. He also really loves corn on the cob, but he dislikes avocado, lettuces, and blackberries. He loves to dance, and has recently started "playing" his piano and xylophone and "singing" along. He gives the dogs hugs, pets the bunny, and runs around like crazy all the time.

My brother was in town last week and we took him to the aquarium. He shrieked with excitement about the beavers and otters, which he called "big bunnies" and "water bunny dogs," respectively. He also liked the various fish, but was slightly scared of the shark tunnel until Uncle Michael picked him up and carried him.

We've taken him berry picking twice, which is how we discovered he dislikes blackberries. I was trying to pick blackberries, and after picking a few and spitting them out, he ran away from me, straight for a blueberry bush, where he happily stayed for a good thirty minutes, munching away on blueberries.

He feeds the dogs every day (puts their pre-measured cups of food in their respective bowls), retrieves his plate or bowl for me from the shelf when it's time to eat, puts his dishes in the dishwasher afterward, and cleans up the living room each evening. He loves to help put things away in the kitchen, cook, and carry things for me. He's really quite helpful.

I'm also just about thirty weeks pregnant with boy number two. I'm worried, because I'm in such a nice groove with T-Rex and because frankly, I dislike infants (have I mentioned I don't do well with sleep deprivation? Also, babies are boring), but we're excited, too. T-Rex has no idea what he's in for, poor little guy. But the pregnancy is going smoothly and I hope the brothers will be friends.

I turned 28 last week. I also found my first gray hair. I'm busy with things other than the toddler and the pregnancy, but those do take up most of my energy. And they're the easiest to talk about. I've been reading a good bit, and doing stuff in the kitchen, and working, and volunteering with church things. The usual.

So there you go. Twenty-eight years and nineteen months and thirty weeks. That's where we are right now.

What I'm Into--November 2013

More like what I've been into since April--has it really been so long since I posted one of these?

Birthday boy.

Life

T-Rex turned one last month. The DDH turned thirty. We celebrated five years of marriage. It was a milestone month for everyone.

And our one-year nursiversary!

We had a little dinosaur (of course) themed party for T-Rex, which was fun, and the next weekend he stayed with Grandma and Grandpa while the DDH and I stayed two nights in a hotel and had a spa afternoon with massages and the works. It was awesome.

T-Rex cake made by my MIL.

Read and Reading

Oh gosh. I've been working my way through Jane Lindskold's Firekeeper series, which just keeps getting better and better. Definitely a must read for fantasy fans. Lindskold is from Albuquerque and I've met her several times; she is just the nicest person, and these books prove she's a good author, as well.

Carrying things in his mouth is a trick he learned from the dogs.

On TV

As T-Rex gets older, tv viewing gets pushed more and more firmly back to after his bedtime. We are way behind on all our shows, with a queue on Hulu a mile long.

Favorite new shows this season? Agents of SHIELD and Sleepy Hollow. Of the two, Sleepy Hollow is actually my favorite--the characters are excellent, though the premise is ridiculous.  

Once Upon a Time is having a better season than last, IMHO. We're so far behind that I'm not sure I've watched enough of the spinoff, Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, to evaluate it properly, but it was growing on me.

I've also been slowly working my way through a rewatch of Firefly, which leads me to two conclusions: one, why did they ever cancel this show??? so good. and two, comparing Firefly to Castle makes me realize Nathan Fillion is getting old, which is sadface. Also three: WHY DID THEY CANCEL THIS SHOW?

Ride 'em, cowboy.

In Theaters

I have been waiting for an Ender's Game movie since the eighth grade, which was more years ago than I care to admit (umm, thirteen. or fourteen. ack). It did not disappoint my tempered expectations, but it wasn't the book, either.

I know we went to the movies at least one other time in the last six months, and certainly we've rented movies to watch, but I don't remember anything particular. Except--Man of Steel was surprisingly boring, and T-Rex loved The Sound of Music.

Birthday boys.

 In the Kitchen

We did about two weeks of a semi-Whole 30 in October. It was a disaster. For one, we simply cannot afford that much meat. Our diet relies heavily on legumes and grains and streeeeetching out the meat as much as possible. We did each lose about ten pounds, which was nice, and it did break me of what was getting to be an out-of-control candy habit. I guess it wasn't a total disaster. But it was very stressful, having to plan out every single bit of food that went into out mouths. That is just not healthy for me psychologically AT ALL.

I'm looking at getting raw milk come January. If the weather isn't too disastrous, we plan to visit the farm this weekend. So looking at the weather forecast...maybe next weekend.

I made some grain-free pumpkin chocolate chip muffins that were to DIE for. Eventually I'll get around to updating the food blog. Probably in another six or seven months. ;-)

Green chile stew at his birthday party.

First time tasting yogurt.

Music

It's FINALLY Christmas music time! My Pandora list knows pretty well what I like--but what's your favorite Christmas tune?

Rex and Meg.

Pat the bunny.

Linking up with Leigh at Hopefulleigh, like I used to before I fell off the face of the blogging earth. Check out what everyone else has been into this month.

What are you up to, friends?

Goodbye, November!

Red white and blue like the fourth of July

Dressed for the day. ;-)

July is my favorite month.

Of course it is. It's my birth month. I was due June twentieth, and I was born next week. Well, next week twenty-seven years ago.

Clearly baby-me knew that July was the best of months and desired to firmly declare it as my own.

Watching firecrackers.

T-Rex is still not back to sleeping all through the night but he's doing a little better and I'm trying to just roll with it. The DDH does not take quite as relaxed a view, but then, the DDH has to get up and go to work every morning.

Yesterday we spent the day at my in-laws' lounging around, eating hamburgers and setting off fireworks. T-Rex took these completely in stride. You could practically see him saying, "Ok, this is a thing that happens in the world" and adding it to his little mental Encyclopedia of Life.

My mother-in-law's sister and her husband are in town, and I do love them. It's nice to see out-of-town family.

Raowr!

I cannot believe this weather. Last night, while watching fireworks, I kind of felt like a sweater wouldn't have gone amiss, when the breeze rose. I needed a blanket while nursing T-Rex in the hammock. We ate lunch out on the porch. This is usually impossible in Oklahoma in July. But yesterday was beautiful.

Windchimes.

My stepfather-in-law's father (got that?) and I share a birthday, so we celebrated that yesterday as well. We have 110 years between us. I love sharing a birthday with him.

Next week and the week after, T-Rex has swimming lessons! Because he is the first child and I'm already preparing reasons for subsequent children to declare he's my favorite. Also because he loves baths so I think he might like pools.

Family portrait.

The DDH's brother is supposed to visit sometime this month, and then my dad and brother are coming at the end of the month. T-Rex and I plan to take off with them to help move my brother to his new home (he's entering a doctorate of music program in Mississippi), and Dad and I plan to swing up and visit family in Austin on the way back. Then my sister and her boyfriend are coming to visit.

Some of that will be in August, but still. July is always a good month, and I'm hoping this year will not disappoint.

Stop! Hammock time.

Six Months

Baby Rex is six months old now. What. It's hard to believe but at the same time it's not.

When my sister was born, I was four and my brother was two. We were duly excited for the new baby, and there is grainy home video of us running around excitedly and begging to hold her and watching her get her first bath.

But after a few weeks, we approached our mother, hand and hand, and said, "It's time for Baby to go home now. Her real mommy is missing her."

Mom tried to explain to us that no, Baby wasn't going anywhere, that she was Baby's real mommy and this was Baby's real home. But we were insistent. "No, you're our mommy. She has a different mommy and it's time for her to go to her real home."

Sometimes I feel like that about T-Rex. I'm wondering when his real mommy is going to show up, and if it's time for him to go to his real home yet. Even after six months, it's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this is his home, that I am his mother, that he's not going to just go away, that having him around is not going to end (or not for a good eighteen or so years, anyway).

I love him fiercely. He's a funny little guy and a joy to have around most of the time. But I love a number of people--my husband, my parents, my siblings. This is different. Not because the love is greater (maybe it is, I don't know), but because it's less...independent, or something. Maybe that will change as he grows. But right now he's his own person but also kind of an extension of me, all at once.

It's perplexing. That's how I feel about him most of the time. Just sort of confused, like I'm not exactly sure how to feel about him.

He just started crying and I guess no one else is going to come and pick him up, so I will. Because I am his mother and maybe someday I'll feel like I am.

I am happy.

Do you remember the Roald Dahl novel Matilda, about the smart little girl whose abusive, neglected family situation led her to have magical powers?

Spoiler alert if you've never read it, but at the end, when she's been adopted and skips ahead five grades in school and is happy and loved and challenged--her powers fade away. They served her well when she was in distress, but she no longer needed them once everything was going well in her life.

Well, sometimes I feel like writing is that way for me. When I'm anxious and overwhelmed and depressed, I write a lot. All the time. The words come pouring out, processing all those Big Emotions.

But when I'm happy and content with my life...nothing.

And I'm happier now than I have been since I was a kid, I think.

It's not that I have nothing to say, but the impetus to put words on paper (or the screen) just isn't there.

But let me tell you how happy I am. For the last several years, I've doubted myself. See, I never had a plan for What I Want To Be When I Grow Up. Because I knew, I just knew, that I would stay home with my children like my mom did (in retrospect it was quite naive of me to assume that I was guaranteed a husband and children at all, but that's youth).

So I majored in English and German (with a history minor because why not?), which I enjoy greatly but which don't necessarily prepare you for any particular career.

I never expected to get married so early. I intended to go on to graduate school, maybe work at something (I had vague notions of a career in academia, I think). But I never put much thought into a future career, because there was nothing I was passionate about, nothing I really wanted to do despite being good at many things.

So, when the reality of finding work and working jobs hit, I was lost. I hadn't had a plan or a destination, and so I just sort of wandered aimlessly from job to job, all of which I was grateful to have at the time I had them, but none of which I ever enjoyed. And the longer I saw that future stretching in front of me, the more lost I felt. Apparently I had been wrong in thinking I would be a stay-at-home mom and everything would work out. Apparently I should have trained for something, because now I did nothing.

Eventually I ended up in the job I had been working. It was a very good job, making a reasonable amount of money, intellectually challenging, different and interesting and with a good title. But the boss is emotionally abusive. And it still wasn't really what I wanted to do.

I was downright depressed during my pregnancy thinking I would have to go back to that job (or any job, but especially that one), abandoning poor little T-Rex and, so far as I could see, ramping up my stress levels to eleven to no purpose except a financial one. \

(I still can't imagine how working moms do it, how they get up and get themselves and one or more kids ready and drop them off and go to work and are on on on all day and then go and get the kids again and come home and feed them all and somehow in there also do at least a minimum of laundry and cooking and housecleaning and quality time. I don't understand how they do it. I get burned out just thinking about it, and was spiraling deeper and deeper into a burnt-out depression contemplating that future while pregnant.)

Maybe if I enjoyed my job, if I had some sort of career ambitions or passion for my work or believed I was making a difference in the world, maybe then it would be different. But I didn't and don't.

Then somehow, miraculously, my boss agreed to let me work from home. I assist with some paperwork and record maintenance and other things I can do from my computer at home without being in the office. It's just a few hours here and there, but it pays our car insurance and some groceries and that's enough.

And so now I'm happy, truly happy, relaxed and content with my life, for the first time since college. I can keep on top of laundry and house cleaning. I get to nurse and play and watch my little guy all day. I go to exercise classes and funerals and all sorts of things I could never do before. I truck T-Rex around to grocery stores shopping the sales. I cook dinner. I pet the dogs.

It is still work--T-Rex is not really always a happy baby, and I still have a short temper. I'm taking seriously the responsibilities of having hot food on the table for us in the evening, of doing the various household chores that I used to split with the DDH.

But this, finally, is work I'm passionate about. Work I enjoy as well as excel at. The worst part of the day is the time I spend working for money, though at least I get to do it from home, when convenient for me.

Not everyone would be happy here. But I am. I don't know how long it will last; at some point my old boss is likely to get irritated and demand I either come in to the office or quit completely. At that point, if nothing has changed with the DDH's salary, I'm not sure what we'll do.

But for now, I'm treasuring this time, and I'm happy, and I'm sorry if I'm not on here much. I always wanted Matilda to be happy and have magical powers. Maybe I'll manage to make that happen in my own life.

This was a strange and rambly and not entirely coherent post, so here's a cute picture of T-Rex so it's not a total waste of your time ;-):

In a funny snow sack.

Three Months

I can't believe T-Rex is three months old already. Is it possible?

Baby burrito at four days old.

At the same time, it seems like it's been much longer. It's been an action-packed three months: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Houston. Crazy.

Dressed for church at five days old.

I look back at the newborn pictures of him and it's amazing how much he's already changed. Where did my little newborn burrito go? Now he's this big old baby trying to sit up.

Baby hugs, almost two weeks old.

I drove him out to Norman yesterday to see my brother, who was auditioning at OU for their doctoral music program. Uncle Misha last saw T-Rex at his baptism in early January. He said, "He's starting to look like a little person now, and not just a baby."

With Kaylee, one month + two days.

And he is a little person, or starting to seem like one, with his own personalities and preferences.

Santa Baby.

 He's mellow and happy almost always but gets grumpy in the evenings--I guess he's a morning person.

Suave.

He likes to talk to his parents and his toys but clams up around other people. Still, he has a smile for everyone.

In his christening gown for his baptism.

He always has to be able to see everything; he loves observing and watching the world go by.

Almost two months old.

He's so much happier now that he's big enough to be carried facing out in the Moby wrap.

Happy traveler on his way to Houston.

He loves to travel. Usually he falls asleep, but sometimes I'll look back in the mirror and he's sitting there with eyes wide open, quietly watching the world go by.

Dr. Pepper baby at Pops.

I'm excited to meet the little person he's becoming. I miss his little newborn self. Sometimes I want to stop time, to grab him and say, "Freeze! I need time to soak in who you are right now before you get to move on to being someone else!"

Little man.

But I can't. And he doesn't. He goes right on growing (he weighed in at fifteen pounds today!) and changing--changing himself, and changing me. Because I'm not the same person I was three months ago, either.

With Uncle Misha at OU.

 I think, on balance, that's a good thing.

A snow day for his birthday.

Linking up with the Tuesday Baby Link Up at Every Breath I Take.

Sorry this kind of turned into a photo dump. I figured out how to get photos into Blogger again. Apparently it just doesn't like the ones from my real camera.

Houston, We Have a T-Rex

It turns out that T-Rex is a spectacular traveler. We stopped twice on the way there but actually only once on the way back. He slept the whole way and didn't cry at all.

I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have any more kids, because I will probably get The Worst Baby Ever to make up for what a mellow and happy guy T-Rex is.

Houston, grieving family stuff aside, was awesome. T-Rex got to meet his great-grandmother, his grandfather, and his great aunt, all of whom (of course) adored him, and we actually got to do a few touristy things. The weather was phenomenal, sunny and seventy the whole time. It really felt like a vacation, and I've missed those.

We hit up an outlet mall on Saturday. I resigned myself to reality and stocked up on some Old Navy clothes in larger sizes. Meh. Speaking of needing larger clothes, we had dinner at one of those Brazilian steakhouse places with the all-you-can-eat meat. Yum.

On Sunday, we visited a lovely old Lutheran church downtown, where I was invited to join the choir (visiting churches is such an ego boost for me; that might not be a good thing). We had lunch at a place that served Indian food pizza (delicious) and hit up Ikea! The DDH had never been to one, and I had only been to the one in Freiburg, Germany, so it was a fun time. We also hit up another store that Tulsa lacks, The Container Store. Which, let me tell you, heaven. Immediately upon walking in the door I found something I had been searching for at stores in Tulsa for MONTHS. Perhaps more daytrips to Dallas are in order.

I'm really irritated by the fact that Blogger is refusing to let me upload any pictures, but if you follow me on Instagram (ktindeed) I did upload several from the trip. Mostly of T-Rex, obviously.

We are travelers.

The DDH's grandfather died this morning.

We're heading to Houston later this week to be with his grandma and father. I love traveling and haven't been to Houston since I was very little (I have vague memories of the Space Center and a zoo or park or something). So perversely I'm kind of looking forward to the trip.

BUT.

Anyone have any tips for surviving two eight-hour car trips and four nights, five days in a hotel with a two-month-old?

I think we'll have to switch to disposable diapers for the trip, since my cloth stash covers about four days, not five, and I'm not sure about doing laundry at my father-in-law's house. We also have a gifted stash of size one diapers that just barely still fit T-Rex.

And clearly the drive there and back will take much longer than eight hours since we'll have to stop and feed T-Rex every two to three hours. So there's that, too.

Please share your traveling-with-tinies wisdom! And any must-do's in Houston, of course! ^_^

It's a T-Rex! (T-Rex's Birth Story, Part III)

The oh-so-thrilling conclusion! Read Parts I and II.

We arrived at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. and completed Round Two of paperwork, cervical checks, the works. I was not any more dilated than when I left the hospital on Friday, but everything seemed softer, apparently, which meant it was more likely that the induction drugs would take this time.

The nurse gave me another dose of misoprostol and the DDH spent a couple hours pacing the halls, to no avail. Not only was I not dilating further, but I wasn't even having the mild contractions I had been having before.

So we got yet another dose. We watched A Knight's Tale, which apparently the DDH had never seen before (how is that possible?).

At about 2:30 Monday afternoon, the nurse checked me again. I was dilated to about a two now, but not having any contractions. She did, however, think that things were ready for the next step.

My doctor came in and broke my water about 3:30 p.m. This was it--one way or another we'd have this baby within the next twenty-four hours or so now. At this point they also hooked up the pitocin to get the contractions going.

And get going they did! I managed fine for awhile, watching an NCIS marathon on TV and trying to get a last bit of rest.

As afternoon turned to evening, however, the contractions became more intense--and more frequent. I couldn't find a comfortable position on the bed, so I got up and paced the room, but the contractions were quickly too intense to walk. I bounced on a birthing ball--that helped for awhile. I could get a good position, bent over and hanging onto the bed.

The contractions got worse and worse. They were lasting about forty-five seconds with only thirty to sixty seconds between them. We asked the nurse to review my pain relief options, and she did--not pressuring me at all one way or the other, but letting me know what was available.

I held out until eight o'clock before I knew that I needed something. We opted to get a narcotic drip first. This, the nurse said, wouldn't stop the pain but would help take the edge off so that I could handle it better. Unfortunately, it did mean that I needed to stay in bed in case I had an adverse reaction to the drug.

That helped for a little while. The drug, whatever it was, kind of put me to sleep, a sort of semi-lucid dream state, where I felt the pain but was sort of sleeping through it. I remember thinking really hard about whether or not I was talking and saying anything to the DDH--I knew I wasn't all there, and I didn't want to say anything stupid, but I felt the need to convey information. It was very weird.

Speaking of the DDH--he was amazing through this whole thing. He rubbed my back, held my hand, told me I could do it, watched all the monitors for me, talked to the nurses because I couldn't focus on much other than the pain. He was great.

My contractions were now constant. One would begin, the pain would ramp up, peak, and then as the pain from one contraction subsided the next would begin. I was only ever getting halfway back down the little pain mountain, with no chance to catch my breath or regroup or steel myself for the next one. I was half sitting up, clinging to the bedrail and the DDH's hand, still not entirely lucid because of the pain meds and just screaming and crying.

Luckily, those constant contractions were finally accomplishing something! The nurse checked and I was dilated to about a seven. This was about 9:30 p.m., maybe? Five plus centimeters in six hours; I don't know if that's good, but after taking five days to get the first two, I was happy with the progress.

Still, with three centimeters to go, I knew I wouldn't last. Maybe I'm just a wuss, but the pain was incessant and terrible. So I gave in and asked for the epidural.

It took another hour or so for the anesthesiologist to come, so the nurse gave me another dose of the other drug in the meantime. It really did nothing for the pain this time, and I was very happy when the anesthesiologist arrived.

I could barely sit up and move to the other side of the bed. I kept having to stop and scream as the pain got too bad. But I managed it, the anesthesiologist did his thing, and finally the pain stopped. My legs went numb slowly, but the pain in my abdomen stopped almost right away. My right leg and a patch of my lower right torso never numbed completely, so I could still tell when I was having a contraction even though it didn't hurt very much, which was nice.

The DDH and I took advantage of this time to get some sleep. It was very nice, really, to be able to relax and sleep while my body did the work, even though it was uncomfortable to have my legs be asleep and not be able to move.

Between about 1 and 1:30 Tuesday morning, the nurse came in, checked, and bam! I was a ten. She called the doctor and came to help coach me through pushing, since she thought I could start doing a little of that until the doctor arrived.

About this time, we noticed that T-Rex's heart rate dropped with each push. The nurse had me roll onto my right side and coached me through pushing from that position, as it didn't seem to send T-Rex into distress.

I pushed maybe five or six times before the doctor and other nurses arrived. Things moved quickly now, as they set up all the equipment and got everyone into position. At some point the nurse had them bring out a mirror so that I could see. This helped me focus the pushing on the right spot, since I could only partially feel it, and it was awesome to be able to see T-Rex being born!

With the doctor there in case T-Rex went into distress again, they had me return to my back. The nurse and the DDH helped hold my feet up in the stirrups and I pushed a few more times. T-Rex's heart rate was definitely plunging each time, but he was also crowning.

Everything moved so fast. It only took about three pushes after the doctor arrived before T-Rex's head popped out. The doctor was yelling at me to hold on and not push for a moment, but I could see his head out and I just wanted to get it over with and was determined to push him out now. I learned later that the cord had been wrapped around T-Rex's neck, but luckily the doctor was able to slip it off quickly, because one more push and there he was!

He was so squished and wriggly and covered in slime and adorable and mine. They handed him to me and I held him while the DDH cut the cord. I couldn't stop saying hello, over and over. It was 2:23 a.m. Tuesday, November 20.

The DDH went with the nurses over to the baby cart and watched them wipe him down and do the Apgar tests and things while the doctor stitched me up (I had a second degree tear). He weighed 8 pounds, 2.9 ounces and was 21 inches long. The doctor checked him out and though he lost a point or two for blue lips or something, really, he was perfect.

They gave him back to me and the nurse helped me position him to breastfeed. We sat there and he ate for 117 minutes--apparently the longest they've ever had a newborn eat! The DDH's mom and stepdad came in to meet him and hold him once he finished; then he was bathed and wrapped up. He had to hang out under the heat lamp for awhile since he had gotten too cold, but eventually he warmed up. The in-laws left and finally the three of us were moved to a recovery room.

We slept and ate and fed and marveled and entertained visitors all Tuesday.

T-Rex's hemoglobin numbers were high on his 24-hour bloodwork, so he had to be under the billirubin lights. They put tiny little baby sunglasses on him and set up a hood of lights over the cart where he slept. He was also lying on a blanket of lights, and he had to remain strapped to that when we took him out to breastfeed him, which was awkward. But after twelve hours with the lights his numbers were back up and we were allowed to go home.

My parents had arrived from Albuquerque Wednesday afternoon and helped us pack everything up. We were discharged about 5:30 p.m. Wednesday, in time to go home, eat Indian food takeout, and for everyone else to get some sleep before Thanksgiving.

I had intended to try to go without the epidural, but I'm glad I got it. Being able to rest for a few hours allowed me to focus and I believe helped me push more strongly and quickly. Sometimes I still wonder if it was the best idea to go in to be induced, but I think that was the right choice, too. He did not want to come out, and though I'm sure I would have gone into labor eventually, I'm not sure how much bigger he could have gotten before I wouldn't have been able to birth him. I was able to avoid a c-section and he arrived healthy and strong. It all worked out, and now he's here, my handsome, happy little T-Rex whom I love.

Intermission (T-Rex's Birth Story, Part II)

Read Part I here.

Friday, November 16. The DDH and I had been in the hospital for two nights, expecting to have this baby. But despite a slew of different cervical ripening treatments, nothing was happening. We were sent home and scheduled to come back on Monday to try again.

At this point, I was deeply depressed. I was experiencing frequent and painful cramps thanks to the second medicine the nurses used, so I was in pain, but to no purpose--they weren't contractions. They weren't helping T-Rex out into the world. I just hurt, for no reason.

The whole venture seemed pointless. Why had we even bothered? We should have just waited and left well enough alone. We had both missed two days of work--the DDH falling behind on his trial prep, me losing two more days of pay--and here we were, still sans baby.

I started writing Part I that day, but was too disheartened to finish it or post it. I wanted to curl up and hide. I hated still being pregnant, and yet I was scared of actually finally having this baby, too. I didn't know what to do or how to feel.

The DDH's mom took us out to a nice lunch on Friday, then we spent the rest of the day at home, miserable. A warm bath finally made the cramps go away, and we woke up on a beautiful sunny Saturday feeling better.

We went to the farmer's market. We had brunch. We spent an hour or so wandering around Bass Pro Shop, looking at talking fish and fancy dehydrators. We went to Target. We came back and relaxed at home.

We skipped church on Sunday, unable to face everyone's questions and comments. We met up for lunch with some friends who were in town on their way home to Iowa. We took the dogs to the dog park.

Really, it was a lovely weekend. We were able to deliberately enjoy this last bit of time alone.

And by Monday, we were ready to try again.

To be continued again...

When it rains, it pours. (T-Rex's Birth Story, Part I)

T-Rex was due November 12, but showed no interest in leaving. The doctor was concerned that he was starting to get too big and wanted to try and get things moving so a C-section would be less likely. We were scheduled to be induced on Wednesday, November 14 at 7:30 in the evening. Here's that story.

When Laura of the Hollywood Housewife announced her Day in the Life challenge for November 14, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to photodocument the last day of our lives before T-Rex came along. You know. This is what the house looked like, where Mommy and Daddy worked at the time, what the weather was like and what we ate and wore.

So it started out great. I did a little photo tour of the house, photographed the dogs and the rabbit and the DDH dressed for work. I'll spare you all the boring photo details (though if you're curious about the famous yellow plaid wallpaper, check it out on Instagram, where I'm @ktindeed).

Anyway. Then, on my way to work, a big SUV tried to cross the four-lane road on which I was traveling. She made it across three lanes...but not the lane I was in. I slammed right into her rear passenger wheel-well.

I think I spent about two minutes sitting the car where it landed, screaming, before I managed to pull off onto the side street where her car had ended up, climb out, and start taking care of everything. I called work to let them know I'd be late and called the DDH to come rescue me, and neither of them could understand what I was saying--I was shaking so badly I couldn't talk clearly. My throat hurt for days from the screaming.

But, my ridiculous overreaction aside, everything was apparently fine. She had three kids in the backseat, and they were all ok. I wasn't experiencing any cramping or anything, so T-Rex was probably safe.


Everyone was okay, though her car was not driveable. Subie was in the shop for almost two weeks (that's the thing about Subarus. They're tough little cars and they last forever, but when something does go wrong, it takes an absolute eternity to get the parts--shops don't tend to keep them on hand).

I finally made it in to work after taking Subie to the shop and picking up a rental car. I then proceeded to work like mad to leave everything in order before I left, which I think I actually managed to do (except I think I might have left a flash drive of photos in my computer there, because I can't find it anywhere at home. Hmph).

Came home and putzed around putting everything in order. I wrote up directions for caring for the animals, made sure everything was packed for the hospital stay, that the guest beds were made up for when my parents arrived. Took a nap.

The DDH came home and we had a celebratory "last meal" at McAllister's, then headed off to the hospital--excited, nervous, but thinking that either way, this was it.

Yeah. As Mom told me later, "I knew when the wreck didn't send you into labor that there was no way you were having that baby yet." Sigh.

The nurse checked me into the hospital. I signed all the paperwork, donned the hideous gown, accepted the little IV valve in my wrist. I still was dilated not even to one. The nurse dosed me with misoprostol and said she'd check back in four hours.

We hung out in the room, watching Hulu. We napped. Four hours passed. Nothing. I was now maybe a one. The nurse gave me another dose. After waiting the requisite hour, we got up and paced around the hospital. I walked laps around the labor and delivery floor and then around the deserted main lobby. I set up an Instagram account and uploaded all my Day In The Life photos.

I was having contractions now. They were short and not super strong, but also really close together. When we returned upstairs, the nurse put the monitor on and said she couldn't give me another dose of the medicine yet because the contractions were coming too close together. Yet I was still only dilated to maybe a one and a half. This was getting frustrating.

We hung out some more. Tried to get some sleep. Eventually the monitor said the contractions were far enough apart and the nurse gave me another dose of the medicine. We did sleep then, for awhile.

Morning came, and another nurse, and ineffective contractions too close together. The DDH left to feed the dogs and get some breakfast. He returned with the news that some Amish people were having a bake sale in the lobby. We petitioned the nurses to let me eat (supposedly I was only allowed clear liquids this whole time), and they agreed. We trekked down to the lobby and bought cinnamon rolls and pumpkin bread and brownies (and some for the nurses as well).

This pretty much continued all day: mild, ineffectual contractions. Lots of walking. More doses of misoprostol. Continued lack of progression.

That evening, they decided to give me a different cervical ripening agent. This one eventually caused really severe cramping, but proved to be no more effective than the misoprostol. My body just was not in the least interested in giving birth yet. So they sent us home.


To be continued...

Advent of a T-Rex

I need to write up T-Rex's birth story soon, before I forget it. But in the meantime, in case you hadn't heard:

T-Rex was born November 20 at 2:23 a.m. Eight pounds, three ounces and 21.25 inches long.


Mostly he's a quiet and curious (and hungry!) little guy, long and skinny with big blue eyes.

He hates the Moby wrap and ring sling because he wants to be able to look around and neither of them let him until he's strong enough to hold his head up. His favorite is being carried around with his head flung backward over your elbow so you look like you're about to drop him.

I'm having problems with all the cloth diapers gapping around his skinny little legs. Hopefully he'll grow into them a bit better, because right now he practically lives in wet onesies, which is gross and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Jayne is more or less indifferent to him since he can't throw the kong, but he likes to say hello and lick T-Rex's face a couple times a day. Kaylee took a few days to get adjusted. She was freaking out with jealousy and anxiety over having been left alone for several days while we were in the hospital. But now she's very protective, following him around everywhere and getting upset when he cries. Jayne and the DDH were playing fetch while the DDH held T-Rex; T-Rex let out a squawk as Jayne tried to give the DDH the kong and Kaylee lunged and growled at him to BACK AWAY FROM HER BABY. Pretty cute.

I have a terrible chest cold that doesn't want to get better because I can't actually get more than three hours of sleep at a time. We're all tired, though I'm letting the DDH sleep through the night as much as possible since he has a huge trial going on right now (good timing, right?).

In conclusion, T-Rex is pretty much the best baby ever and we're mostly having a good time, though it's only just now I'm starting to feel like I'm adjusting and able to get things done.

Happy December, everybody!

(For some unknown reason Blogger's not letting me add photos. But I have Instagram now and there are some there as ktindeed.)

The End Is Near

Well.

For a variety of reasons, it looks like T-Rex will be here by Thursday.

If he doesn't arrive on his own before then, I'm supposed to go in Wednesday evening to be induced. Not exactly what we expected; I really fully expected to be waiting until next week at least.

But it turned out my options, if T-Rex hadn't decided to come by next Monday, were:

1. Be induced at a different hospital next week, because with the short week for Thanksgiving, our hospital was already booked.
2. Keep waiting until the following week.
3. Be induced at our hospital this week.

I like the hospital I picked. I chose it for good reasons: it's a smaller, newer facility; the nurses are friendly; the policies are more in line with how I want T-Rex's first day or so to go. I don't know anything about the other hospital except that it doesn't have as good a reputation for quality medical care. No thank you.

Option Two would kind of be fine with me. I don't mind waiting for nature to take its course. But the doctor pointed out, "That baby's already plenty big. He's only going to get bigger, and your pelvis is not actually that large."

(Let me point out here that I was three weeks late myself. My mom finally went into labor, labored for something like twenty-four hours, and then her body just stopped. No more contractions. It gave up on getting me out of there. I was born by C-section, developmentally already acting like a three-week old and not a newborn. So I'm not sure I like my genetic odds if I decide to just keep waiting.)

Though statistics say inducing is more likely to end with a C-section, the doctor believes that we are actually less likely to end up with complications and/or a C-section if we induce now than if we wait past forty-two weeks for T-Rex to come on his own (or end up needing to induce at that point).

Wednesday night they'll start with various methods to try and jumpstart a natural labor. We'll see how things go overnight and only start pitocin on Thursday if necessary--the doctor and I would both really, really prefer to avoid the pitocin if at all possible, and he's hopeful they can maybe get things moving in other ways.

So. T-Rex has about thirty-four hours to decide to come on his own, which would be nice, but doesn't really look likely. He's apparently pretty cozy in there and sees no reason to venture out into this strange new world.

Guess I should go on some more long walks, after all. ^_~

D-Day

Well, here we are. Today is T-Rex's due date, not that he cares. He still shows no signs of going anywhere.

I'm at work today and have a doctor's appointment this afternoon to see if there's any progress. If not, I guess I'll just keep working this week and we'll check again next Monday. They won't let me go too much over a week past the due date without inducing and are keeping an eye on the calcification of the placenta.

In the meantime, I'm getting really. tired. of people's comments.

Mostly, there's just only so much you can think of to say to someone at this stage in the pregnancy, and it's not all the individual people's faults that I'm hearing the same things over and over and over.

But on the other hand.

If the due date is today, why have people been making comments about trying to jumpstart labor for six freaking weeks already?

Seriously. He would have been premature if he had been born at the time people first started encouraging me to walk around a lot or jump up and down. He's just now due today, people. Why would I have been trying to get him out any sooner?

Also. Why does everyone keep telling me to go for long walks? Do they think I've been sitting on my butt for the past ten months? Maybe I've invested in one of those little motor scooters?

I'm still going to the gym three times a week, plus my Wednesday one-hour exercise class. I was going to Zumba until we switched over to weekly appointments at about the 35 week mark, because my appointments are the same afternoons as Zumba class. I'm still in the habit of parking at the back of store parking lots because it irritates me to drive around looking for a closer spot when I can just zoom into one farther away and hoof it.

None of this has bothered T-Rex in the slightest so far. I'm not sure why it's supposed to tell him it's time to get the heck out of Dodge now.

Yesterday, the DDH and I did two laps of the mall because we couldn't find the store where we planned to buy the MIL's birthday present. And then we took the dogs for a forty-five minute walk (in the freezing cold! where did that come from?) that evening.

Saturday, I weeded the entire garden (finally!) and dug up a bunch of potatoes (yay!). I've cleaned the laundry area in the garage, made sure the guest beds are ready for visitors, set up the playpen/bassinet upstairs, vacuumed the master bedroom.

None of this activity has encouraged him to come yet. So stop telling me to go for a long walk. And definitely stop telling me to jump up and down. That's dangerous.

Ok, end rant. Here's a picture of me at the fabulous forty week mark:

And the profile:

Wow, the picture quality there is terrible, even for me and my sad little phone. Oops.

Everything's ready. We're just waiting now. I'm still just working and doing all the normal stuff around the house I always do.

Nursery Porn, Part III

The floor and the walls looked great. The crib looked great. The closet had tiny baby clothes in it.

But really, the nursery was still just an empty room with a crib in it.

The DDH and I plundered other rooms in the house to provide a shelf/changing table, bedside table, and rocking chair. We hung up the decor pieces that matched the crib bedding (the MIL bought us the entire set). We completed a few other decorating projects. We made no fewer than four trips to Home Depot to get the blinds cut down to the right size for the window.

And so, without further ado, the grand finale!

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

Bring on the nursery porn!

The crib, complete with fuzzy dino mobile and sweet dino wall decals:

 

The MIL and Step-Sister In Law painted the letters and had them on the mantel at the baby shower. Now they're above the windows with the awesome stegasaurus valances and the way-more-trouble-than-they-should-have-been blinds.

The SSIL also made this ribbon for me to wear at the shower. It now adorns the door so everyone knows what's within.

Forgive my truly awful phone pictures; the battery on my real camera is dead and I can't find the charger.

This is the wall opposite the door, with the changing table station, the rocking chair, and the night table.

The table we stole from the guest bedroom; the finish almost exactly matches the crib! It has a cute little slanted shelf underneath on which I've put a bunch of board books. The majority of our children's and YA books are on the built-in shelves in the guest room.

The rocking chair was actually in the DDH's nursery when he was a baby. It's not the most comfortable for long-term sitting, but it serves the purpose.

And more little dino decals!

So the story behind this ugly but really functional piece of furniture: The MIL's husband worked at Home Depot for many years. One of his coworkers built this and another piece for use in the tool department where they worked. It was a storage cabinet/workstation, and it's just unfinished wood with plexiglass on top.

The coworker retired. He didn't want Home Depot to keep the pieces, which he had made himself with his own materials, but he didn't really have any use for them. So he gave them to the StepFather In Law, who gave them to us, because we are furniture magpies.

Eventually the DDH may refinish it, but he is understandably sick of sanding and staining right now. So for now, it's just unfinished wood. But all the shelves are fully adjustable to different heights, and it's about the right height for a changing table. So yay!

I have the changing pad on top (secured per safety instructions). That blue box on top is actually a tissue box covered in duct tape; it holds a bunch of cloth wipes (aka t-shirts cut to wipe size with pinking shears). The green basket holds cloth diapers; the basket below it has receiving and swaddling blankets, and the two below that have mittens and hats. The wooden clementines box has burp rags, and the blue plastic and black cloth drawer units hold a variety of random baby things--diaper cream, Lansinoh, pacifiers, etc.

Yes, we have the canvas wall art that matches the bedding, valances, lamp, and wall decals, too. He's the first grandbaby on both sides, okay?

Do you not just love that wooden t-rex pull toy? Mom found it on Amazon. The lion and dog in the rocking chair are mine from when I was little.

 

The closet is much fuller than in Part II, isn't it? Still pretty organized, though! I'm on the lookout for either a brown-and-blue or dinosaur shower curtain or other fabric to hang up eventually.

A few more pictures:

There's one more project for the wall over the changing table, but since it's only about two-thirds done and there's no guarantee it will be complete before T-Rex arrives and the room stops being so clean and organized, I figured I'd better go ahead and post these now. ^_^

So that's it! The culmination of all our the DDH's hard work! Isn't it gorgeous? It is absolutely the only room in the house that is even remotely designed, coordinated, painted, etc. I already told you the crib is the only Purchased New piece of furniture in the house (ok, fine, other than our desk chairs).

Clearly T-Rex is a First Baby. My apologies, Subsequent Children, that your living spaces were never this totally awesome.

But for now? So happy.

Okay, I cannot get over the adorableness of this lamp. Or the pull-toy, for that matter.

THE END!