The Battle of the Bulge, Pas de Deux

So... Here I am at 1 week postpartum. 

At my last doctor's appointment I weighed 181. In this picture, I weigh 167. Clearly a lot of it is in my tummy, which continues to shrink. I have been fortunate to fit back into one pair of jeans and one pair of shorts so far. To be honest that is all I have tried to fit into. I have been so tired I don't really try to dress myself in much other than that!! 

My diet so far has been pretty shitty. There have been a couple mornings that I have been up early enough to eat a decent breakfast but more often than not I have not been eating the healthiest of foods. I guess I did buy a watermelon and we have been feasting on that for several days. But I cannot get enough of the Pizza flavored Pringles or cookies of any sort. Orros, fudge striped cookies, lactation cookies (which I will be making more of today!). So I need to kick those habits and eat more nutritional foods, like more fresh fruit etc.

But for right now, it truly is about survival. I eat when I can, shower when I can and sleep when I can. Hopefully Catherine will become more regular in her schedule, which will allow me to think a little more about what I am putting on my mouth! 

All in all, this post-partum picture is much more favorable than the one I had with James at one month! Incredible what a little exercise and chasing around a toddler can do for a girls pregnant physique!

Breastfeeding, Round Two

I now understand why people breastfeed their children well into the toddler years.

Well, actually, I don't. I think that as soon as your kid knows what a boob is, it's time to cut the cord. Maybe even before that. But all that aside, I realize how beautiful breastfeedig really is. 

It's incredible that my milk will let down before Catherine even wakes up. But as soon as it begins to let down, she's awake and ready to nurse. That, to me, is incredible. 

With James, I had an incredibly difficult time in the hospital getting him to latch. Flat nipples, a tired mom, pushy nurses and a lactation consultant who also happened to be my backyard neighbor (weird) made the whole situation really awkward and frustrating. 

I remember the first night I could not get James to latch. And the pushy night nurse just kept forcing him on my boob. She would grab a handful and shove his head on there and then tell me he had a horrible latch So she would take him off, grab my boob again and shove him on there again. She made me try different types of holds to get him to latch properly. Needless to say, it was a horrible 8 hour experience. 

Finally, she tells me to take some of the instant formula and put some on my nipple to get him to really start sucking, and hopefully that would make a good latch. 

I wish I would have never done that. 

As such, that became the catalyst for my journey into exclusively pumping. Long story short, I thought, "Oh, I'll just supplement with formula this time around" while never really solving the problem in the first place. 

So with my pushy night nurse gone the next day, and a much nicer nurse who seemed more helpful, I nursed James. 

Without any knowledge, I had no idea if he was latching correctly or not. His top lip was up, his bottom lip was out, he didn't seem to be "chewing" on my nipple, so that's a good latch, right? 

Wrong. He wasn't on far enough, which resulted in a huge blister. Which resulted in me not even being able to nurse on that side for the duration of my hospital stay. 

So with only one boob in commission, I again supplemented with formula. I mean, the formula was right there, all ready to go in it's nicely packaged pre-made bottles.

My lactation nurse came in once, at the end of my stay, took a look at my nipples, and told me James was latching wrong. She didn't tell me that I have flat nipples and that I need to draw them out before I start nursing. She never asked to see him try to nurse. She simply told me to try and pump, put some in a bottle, and then feed it to James. Just to give my poor nipples a break. She suggested lanolin lotion and to "keep trying" to nurse. 

She never showed me how. 

She did, however, mention that it was officially her last weekend working as a lactation consultant and if I needed anything, to holler over the fence. Yeah, right. 

So, needless to say, when I got home, I immediately got frustrated in trying to nurse James, and simply pumped, like I had the last day in the hospital. 

James took to the bottle right away, and from then on, I never once brought him back to my breast. It was bittersweet and a relief at the same time. I badly wanted to breastfeed him, but at the same time, my nipples hurt so badly I knew that I was saving them by pumping.

So I began exclusively pumping. But not enough. I began to lose my milk supply something fierce and had to start using formula. At James' 2 week appointment, my doctor and pediatrician suggested Fenugreek. Although it helped, I still wasn't pumping enough. At James' 1 month appointment, my doctor gave me a prescription for some random medicine that supposedly helps your milk supply. It did, but by that time, James was used to the formula. So I exclusively pumped to supplement with breast milk and have some put in storage for when he started into daycare.

I can remember looking at our tiny bathroom vanity sink with a giant bowl filled with soapy water at 3:00 a.m. one morning and thinking, "This sucks." It did. Every time I pumped, I had to clean the pump parts, put my milk in a storage bag, mark it with time and date, put it in our fridge downstairs. While I pumped, I would prop James up in the boppy pillow and feed him from a bottle. A bottle that had to be heated up before I gave it to him. And then after I heated it up, I would have to quickly assemble my pump "parts," attach them to my overly full boobs, and begin pumping. I would have to carefully manuever him from his bassinet next to the bed onto the boppy pillow while the pump got going and rouse him to be fed. It was a horrible cycle, and to reiterate, it sucked.

It was time consuming. It took twice as long as breastfeeding would have. And yet, I continued to do it because, damnit, I was his mom and I was supposed to provide for him.

And I did it that way for almost 5 1/2 long months. I remember once coming back from pumping in the bathroom and my boss said, "That's all you got after pumping that long?" Talk about feeilng defeated. But I was determined to provide for my child.

It was a long road and when I finally decided to hang up the tubes (those of you with breast pumps know what I'm talking about), it was a relief. My life no longer revolved around pumping. From then on, it was formula.

Fast forward to the second positive pregnancy test I've ever had.

I was determined to  breast feed with Catherine if it was the last thing I did. So when I checked into the hospital and was first getting my pitocin and IV drip, I told the nurse I wanted to see a lactation consultant as soon as possible and reiterated what a terrible breastfeeding experience I had had with my son. It was very important to me that people listen to me this time.

I brought with me to the hospital my "Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" book so I could reference it as I needed. I was prepared with hours and hours of blog and article reading regarding breastfeeding. I was bound and determined to make it work. There wasn't any other choice in the matter.

The nurses whisked her away after she was born and after an hour of checking vitals, making sure she was breathing (she was a breath holder, which led to the nurses giving her oxygen to make sure her reflexes kicked in), asked if I wanted to try breastfeeding.

YES. 

So I brought her to my breast and the nurse helped me get her to latch. It wasn't painful, it was a positive experience and I was elated that it was working out. I couldn't believe it was this easy! The nurse even commented that she seemed to figure it out right away, but then again, most girls do.

From there, it got more difficult, but she continued to nurse. I nursed twice the day she was born, and into that evening, my nipples began to get raw and hurt, but I continued to nurse.

Then the second night in the hospital came. I was having trouble getting her to latch, which, after the hours of reading blogs and articles, knew that would be a distinct possibility. So I continued to be patient and tried to get her to latch. An older, night nurse was on duty and came into my room. It was like deja vu. After commenting I had been trying to get her to latch for the past half hour, the night nurse took my boob, squeezed it and shoved Catherine's head onto it.

I thought I was going to lose my shit. But I tried really hard to stay calm. Catherine was clearly getting agitated as she hadn't latched yet and was very hungry, the night nurse was being pushy (what's with old ladies on the night shift being so damn pushy?) and I was about ready to, once again, lose my shit.

And like deja vu, the night nurse said, "Maybe if we put a bit of formula on the breast, she will take to it more." I tried to keep an open mind, and decided that maybe she was right. It did make sense and even though it didn't quite work with James, maybe it would with Catherine. So we tried, unsuccessfully, and in being unsuccessful, the night nurse said, "Maybe we should try a nipple shield."

I lost my shit in the nicest way possible.

"No. I do not want to try a nipple shield. I had a very negative experience with a nipple shield with my son, and I do not want to go that route. What I would like to do is simply keep trying."

The night nurse backed off, and after going through my mental checklist as to why Catherine might not seem interested, but was very clearly upset (hot? cold? hungry? under stimulated? over stimulated? dirty diaper?) I changed her diaper (dirty it was!) and immediately got her calmed down enough to nurse.

I was thrilled that breastfeeding was going so well. Even so, I ordered a new breast pump (covered 100% by insurance!) to prepare to pump when I go back to work in August.

I was thriled that it was much more easy to breastfeed. No more pump supplies and cleaning them and hooking myself up every 2-3 hours.

I was thrilled that I was going to be able to provide for my child.

So we came home. The first night home was a bit of a challenge, but I was not prepared for what the next 24 hours would bring.

My milk came in slowly on Thursday night/Friday morning. I started noticing that it was no longer the glue-like colostrum, but it was more runny. Although I had prepared myself for so many things in regard to breastfeeding, I was not prepared for the engorgement.

I briefly remember the engorgment from my post-partum with James, but I did not remember it being that bad. So I did the one thing I swore to myself I was no going to do. I pumped and gave what I had to Catherine in a bottle. She did horribly with it, which made me feel even more like a failure. I was a wreck.

By the time I was ready to take Catherine to her 2-day doctor's appointment, my breasts hurt so bad I was on the verge of tears. And combine that verge of tears with my hormone levels, I was bawling on my way into the doctor's office.

It was, in fact, so bad at the doctor's office, that I'm pretty sure the middle-aged man next to me was terrified and moved a seat over.

The nurses at the clinic are so sweet, and one in particular simply whisked me back into the exam room without weighing or measuring Catherine. She sat and rubbed my back as I cried and cried and cried. My boobs hurt so bad, my nipples were so chapped, it was so overwhelming to try and do so many things with two children.

The doctor came in and just talked with me. We talked about how hard it was. We talked about how people can tell you about how hard it is, but until you experience it, you really have no idea.

She looked at my nipples, and suggested a nipple shield (that dreaded word again!). I expressed how negative an experience that was with James, and she said if Catherine has no problems latching now, the nipple shield will only help the experience, rather than hinder it.

So I immediately went to the store, still teary-eyed, and bought a nipple shield.

It has been my saving grace.

Another thing my doctor suggested was that I do whatever I needed possible to make myself comfortable in providing for Catherine.  So if that means that to save my aching nipples, I pump, then pump. So be it. I'm still, over everything else, exclusively breastfeeding. But it's ok to take a break, give myself some time to recover and make sure that I'm not only providing for Catherine, but I'm also taking care of me.

Somewhere in all of those articles and blogs I had read, it never said anything about taking care of yourself.

So yes, when Catherine immediately latches, it feels like someone is slamming my nipples in a drawer. It feels like someone has taken them and is about to twist them off. It feels like they will never be the same again.

Yes, the uterine cramps that accompanied breastfeeding the first time are 10x worse the second time around and I continue to have them, even 5 days in (though not as bad as the beginning).

And yes, I am using a nipple shield, which doesn't allow her to "latch" correctly.

But I don't care. I'm happy, Catherine is happy, and we're blissfully sailing into the breastfeeding world. I cannot tell you how happy I am that it's working. That we're doing it.

Sure, there are things that crop up that worry me - like how long should she nurse for? And when she "empties" one breast and I move her to the other breast, she never seems interested and I then only end up feeding off one breast (which is ok, says one article, as long as your body adjusts and provides enough milk, which I believe it is). And what's this thrush stuff? How do you get it? Should I be worried?

But in all this, my pump sits silent at the bottom of my nightstand. There if I need it.

I'm thankful that I don't. 

Catherine Lynn Engels

Hello beautiful girl! Youre here! And boy, did you take your sweet time!

I thought for sure I was going to go into labor with you the same way I did with James. I was 40+4 and unlike when I was pregnant with James, I was feeling absolutely. nothing. Talk about frustrating.

And then I saw the cardinal and thought for sure it was a sign from my dad to get ready.

That night, I was getting ready to get into the shower, and after telling Eric I was actually relieved that I was going to have Monday to prepare for your birth, I went to sit on the toilet, I felt a pop, and there was liquid all over the floor. All over my legs. All over the toilet.

Holy shit, my water broke! I was elated. So elated, I grabbed my robe (I was naked when this happened), and ran downtstairs to find your dad. Who I thought was outside. So in my robe, I wandered around outside for a bit. Turns out, he was in the garage.

When I found him and told him my water broke, we were both elated. We were about to have a baby!!

So I called the hospital, Eric packed quickly, we got James over to the babysitter and off we went.

Long story short, it was not my water that broke, but my bladder, which had apparently exploded.

The nurse told me that it happens all the time. Seriously? How incredibly embarrassing. So after then texting our parents that it was a false alarm, as we had text them on our way to the hospital, and telling our babysitter it was also a false alarm, we came home, not only without a baby, but without James as he had already fallen asleep at the sitters.

Although we were devastated, Monday was a good day. I felt good all day, I got a lot of things done before you got here and it was nice to spend our last evening as a family just hanging out.

Tuesday morning could not get here fast enough, however, and I woke up at 5:30 a.m. anxious, nervous, and ready to be done being pregnant.

I called the hospital a half hour before I was supposed to to make sure there was a bed for me, and there was. Eric and I dropped James off with the sitter and once again, away we went.

It was so different walking into the hospital and checking in without actually being in labor. It's like, "Hello. I'll have the blue-eyed, bald-headed, no-fuss one please."

They checked me in, checked my cervix (still a damn 3!) and got the pitocin going at about 8:00 a.m. At about 8:45 a.m. the nurse came in and said the anesthesiologist was going into a c-section and wouldn't be available until a good hour or so afterward. Considering my constractions were starting to come every 2 minutes, I thought it would be a good idea to get the epidural at 8:50 a.m.

The anesthesiologist administered the epidural and boom, couldn't feel my right leg. At all. For the rest of the day. Not only that, but I could feel my left leg, almost all the way.

The epidural made me incredibly groggy, to the point where I was starting to feel disoriented. I asked to have it "turned down" but the nurse suggested against it since at that time, my contractions were coming every minute or so, and were very strong.

So i stayed like that, on my back for most of the time, just waiting while my body labored. At least with James, I could feel my body laboring and could still operate every appendage. Whereas this time, I couldn't even move my right leg.

Needless to say, I didn't like it.

Labor progressed slowly and was not fun. However, your Gradnma Terri pulled through again, and ended up being the catalyst for your delivery.

I was dilated to a 7 at 1:00 p.m. I thought for sure I wasn't going to deliver you until well into the late afternoon. Your Gradnma Terri arrived about 1:30 and boom, when the nurse came in and checked me at 2:00, I was fully dilated and effaced and you were about to slide out. I exaggerate on that last part, but you'll see why in a second.

So while your Grandma Terri and your dad sat on the couch, not three feet from me, having a conversation, the nurse suggested that I push, "just to see what happens." So I did. Knees back by my head, ass bared, while Eric and his mom chit-chatted away on the couch!

Apparently, you didn't need much coaxing down the birth canal. So the nurse suggested I start pushing, you Grandma Terri left the room, your dad grabbed my leg and I pushed.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The nurse told me to stop and I heard her get on the phone with a couple of people, asking if they could come to room 609 for a delivery.

All of a sudden, the room was flooded with people and the doctor was in front of me, telling me to push.

So I did. And he told me to "keep pushing, keep pushing, keep pushing!"

And I did.

Not even ten minutes later, 5 pushes later, you were born.

8 pounds, 6.2 ounces, 20 inches.

Beautiful.

They put you on my chest, so your dad could cut the umbilical cord, and you started to turn blue. The nurses kept rubbing you to try to get you to cry, but to no avail. All of a sudden, you were whisked away so they could get you to breathe.Apparently you are a breath-holder.

I was stitched up, your name was decided and here you are. We couldn't be more thrilled. I love you baby girl!!

40+4 Weeks Pregnant and The Cardinal

And so here I am.

Last night and today have had a ton of deja vu moments, including me lying on our hammock in the sun trying to alleviate myself to this horrible pelvic pain (and yes, it works and is glorious!) and the Attack of the Hormones, which targeted my husband after working a 13 hour day yesterday (sorry babe! I love you!)

At times, with James' pregnancy, I was worse off than I am now. More pain, I was heavier, he had dropped significantly earlier and I was more dialated and effaced with him.

With baby girl, I'm much lighter, I don't always feel 40 weeks pregnant and James helps me to keep my mind off things.

Last night, I was a mess. At 3:00 a.m. I was a mess. This morning, I was a mess.

My neighbor/James' daycare provider, took him with her family to a graduation, where they stayed all day. She picked him up at 9:30 a.m. and dropped him off at 4:30 p.m. Which gave Eric and I some much needed time to spend together. We haven't really done that since this past Tuesday night. We have literally just been passing each other, both trying to get things done before Baby Girl gets here, if she ever does.

So we went to Home Depot today to buy more mosaic backsplash for one of his customers, which happens to be our neighbor/James' daycare provider. So that worked out well. But he has to work on the weekends, because she has daycare during the week. Ugh. And he's trying to get it done this weekend. With an impending birth. And since I'm the one who will be doing the birthing, we're both under a lot of stress.

But I digress.

So Eric and I took a trip together, and I was able to take a one-hour cat-nap, and then relax on the hammock the rest of the afternoon.

And here I am. Sometimes, I'll have cramps, sometimes contractions that take my breath away. Most of the time, when I become active again, that's when they stop. And so the vicious cycle goes. When I was pregnant with James, all I had to do was sit around and time them and concentrate to see if they were getting stronger. Last night, about 2:00 a.m. I thought for sure we would have to head to the hospital. Nope. The excrutiating contractions that took my breath away went away at about 3:00 a.m. and were replaced with angry, desperate tears.

I am so. fucking. done. with being pregnant.

So with all this frustration, what do I see today? A cardinal. The last time I saw a cardinal was on Easter, when my mom was standing on the deck watching James play in the yard below. This cardinal literally swooped in and hovered around my mom's head for a second or two, and then flew to the nearest tree and stayed around the rest of the day. I have never seen a Cardinal hover, and even my mom commented it was weird. But I knew better...

One morning, after a particularly difficult morning wondering if I was even doing a good job with James, there was a Cardinal outside his window. And when I finally put him back down to sleep, the Cardinal showed up outside my window

Every once in awhile, this Cardinal will show up. It always seems like it's when I'm doubting myself, the things I'm doing, or really, life in general.

Little did I know, a Cardinal is supposedly the spirit of a loved one. I never knew that until a friend who actually reads this blog sent me an article on the subject. It was fascinating, and in the end, exactly what was happening to me.

It seems like every time I needed some sort of reassurance, my dad would show up.

So today, my dad showed up. Probably to tell me to stop being some hormonal psychopath and give Eric a breatk or two. Or tell me to calm down, Baby Girl will be here in due time. Or to tell me to stop eating my feelings (but those golden double stuffed oreos are so good!) Either way, it's funny how these things work.

So, little girl, if Tuesday morning is it, then I guess that's when we get to meet you. If you want to come sooner, I'm ok with that too, but I'm finally ok with you coming in a pitocin-induced haze that gives me contractions stronger than I have ever experienced.

And all because I saw the cardinal today, I know it will be the way it's meant to be. Crazy how that works...

40 Weeks!

Well...

I'm still pregnant.

I was hoping, wishing, praying that I would not be doing a Week 40 update. But here I am. And in fine form, let me tell you.

First off, let's start with my students, who can tell I've been waning and ready to be done. They have made me laugh and helped me to stay calm. So I've decided to just keep working. Since all our performances are over any way, my 7th and 8th grade choir are working on projects, where I just sit and answer questions. My Concert Choir has been gifted a study hall, much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of my administration. My Select Choir is working on their song for graduation. So... it's really just coasting from here.

But Jesus, I am done with being pregnant. Work helps keep my mind off it during the day, James helps me keep my mind off it at night, and mundane tasks after he goes to bed help me keep my mind off it.

But I'm pretty sure even with all those things, I have googled everything possible about the start of birth, signs of labor, mucous plug, braxton hicks, you name it. I need a sign and have gotten zero. TMI coming up, but I have had minimal discharge. If there has been discharge, it is not indicant of any stretching or dilation. I have had Braxton Hicks go away. I feel like I'm in my 28th week of pregnancy. I am constipated instead of having loose stools, which indicate labor is "on it's way."

I am having trouble staying focused on the fact that I want a healthy baby to come when she wants, and instead am perseverating on the facts that she hasn't shown signs that she is on her way.

And it's killing me. Especially because I like to have an agenda.

All this, combined with my "bad news" at the doctor's office yesterday, put me in a deep baby depression.

I'm pretty sure the words out of his mouth were, "Well, it's good, but not great." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? He did say later that he doesn't think I will make it to my induction, which will be scheduled Tuesday. However, when your doctor says that your dilation/effacement hasn't changed since the last appointment and it's just good, that's tough to hear. Especially when you want so badly to be DONE with this pregnancy!

So yesterday, emotionally, was a tough day. Today was much better, thanks to being so busy and keeping my mind off it. Not to mention, good ole doc stripped my membranes to get things moving and my contractions came back, which is exciting. Those same contractions did manage to keep me up from 1:30 a.m. to almost 4:00 this morning, so again, exciting.

But boy, am I done being pregnant. And I have an inkling that my husband is done with me being pregnant as well. I can tell he's getting excited, as he's been more patient with my mood swings (I'm sure no one has noticed that I am not moody or anything) and more helpful.

All in all, let's get a move-on, little girlie. I'm ready to meet my other half. :)


How far along? 40 damn weeks. If I have to do a 41 Week update, I will kill someone.
Maternity clothes? Surprisingly, again, I have been wearing more dresses that don't require it. And I've sold a few maternity pieces that I no longer fit into on ebay (woop woop!) So I'm slowly getting out of my maternity clothes, although it's supposed to turn cooler again, so I'm sure I'll pull some more out!
Weight gain? When I went to the doctor this week, it said 3 pound gain, but I was also very, very swollen. Not to mention the previous appointment I had lost 4 pounds? I don't know how accurate their scale really is...
Stretch marks? No, and that's awesome. I'm going to get through two pregnancies with no stretch marks. That's awesome.
Best moment this week? During professional development on Monday, my contractions got to the point where they took my breath away. I remember thinking, "This might be it!!!!" only to get up to go to the bathroom 10 minutes later and boom, GONE. Not even cramps were left behind. Just done.
Miss anything? Everything that has to do with no being pregnant. Bending over, drinking heavily. You get the idea.
Movement? Barely. She very much just prods at my stomach now. It's very very slow and hopefully, she will get sick of it, like, tomorrow.
Food cravings? Just the salads and Peanut Butter Captain Crunch. Whoever thought of that cereal was a damn genius.
Anything make you queasy or sick? Nope, not that I know of! 
Labor signs? Just cramps and some barely-bloody discharge. I may have been imagining the discharge though. Not to mention the barely-dilated and effaced state of my va-jay-jay.
Belly button in or out? Out. 
Linea nigra? Barely!
Wedding ring on or off? Sadly, I have had to take it off, I believe permanently. I am just too swollen and can't get rid of it all the way. Most times, I can put it on, but I'm afraid that it's going to get stuck, so I just leave it on my necklace around my neck. Sooner rather than later it will be back on my finger! 
Happy or moody?  Moody. Poor Eric!

Looking forward to: Birth. Let's do this!

39 Weeks and an NST...

Holy hell. It is fucking hot.

But before I get to that, let me tell you about the first scare Eric and I have ever had with either pregnancies.

James' pregnancy was a cakewalk. His heart beat was always great, my blood pressure was always great, and every check up was always routine with nothing new or exciting to report.

Yesterday, the nurse laid me back, greased up my belly and put the heart monitor on and listened. And listened. And listened. Then stupidly mentions that baby's heart rate is pretty low.

What?

Normally, Baby Girl has a pretty steady rhythm between 140 and 155. She was reading in the lower 100's. Which means, cause for concern.

So the doctor comes in and checks me, asks if I have questions and immediately I want to know what the nurse said about Baby Girl's heartbeat. So the doctor ordered an NST to make sure all was well.

Long story short, of course as soon as I was hooked up, Baby Girls' heartbeat shot back up to the 140's and the nurse mentioned that she might just have a low base line for her heart beat, meaning when she's at rest, it beats pretty slowly. So all is well. It was an interesting couple of minutes though, where I thought, "Oh my God. We're going to have to have this baby today. And we're not ready!" So needless to say, I have a list of things I would like to accomplish this weekend, which includes finishing packing for the hospital and packing for James to stay with Christy! Yikes...

But all is well and Baby Girl is still sitting in her cocoon, just chilling and waiting for the right moment to make her entrance!

So back to the fact that it's fucking hot...

Yes, that is my first thought. It's not being 39 Weeks pregnant, or even the thought that in less than a week we could be holding our baby girl. It's the fact that Mother Nature's mood swung the other direction and it is currently 84 degrees at 8:30 p.m.

So what am I doing? Laying in bed, blogging, in a tank top and my underwear, in the dark (lights create heat!) with the windows wide open, the ceiling fan on high and and oscillating fan on high two feet from my swollen body.

I can only imagine how this looks on the outside. But it's one of those things that makes me thankful for the days that I have had leading up to this. Last week at this time, I was wearing skinny jeans, boots and a jean jacket because it was a whole 63 degrees and windy. A cold wind too, not a nice southerly wind. Ugh.

All in all, it has been a great week. I was thinking earlier today how horrible this pregnancy was in the beginning. Not necessarily the pregnancy itself, but all the illnesses I contracted thanks to my low-functioning immune system. How lucky I am that these past few weeks I have felt pretty good.

All in all, I'm ready. I'm ready for this pregnancy to be over. I'm ready to handle two children and a house and a marriage and a cat, for God's sake. I'm just ready to be done.

So with that, onward!

How far along? 39 Weeks. Where has the time gone?
Maternity clothes? Yesterday and today, I was able to get by with non-maternity, empire-waisted dresses. It was nice to be able to wear some normal clothes again!
Weight gain? Last week, I was shocked when I stepped on the scale. I thought for sure it had to be the fact that I was wearing boots and a jean jacket. And maybe those bowls of ice cream at 9:00 p.m. But four pounds? So I stepped on the scale this time around and guess what? I lost four pounds. Even the nurse said, "Was there something wrong with the scale last time?" I mentioned I was wearing boots and a jean jacket with my pockets full of crap (I'm a teacher, what can you expect?) and she said even so, it should not have been that great of a difference. So to celebrate the possibility of no weight gain in approximately 2 weeks, I am going to have ERic make me a bowl of fricken ice cream. Because now that I'm in bed, there's no way I'm getting out!
Stretch marks? Nope! Thank God!
Best moment this week? There have been several. James has been relatively awesome. I was able to go out with my bestie on Friday night, and even though I'm nauseous in my last weeks of pregnancy and she's nauseous in her first weeks of pregnancy, we managed to have a great time. It was nice to go out with her, without our kids, and reminisce the way we used to drop $400 on a shopping trip. Needless to say, this time around, I only dropped $30.
Miss anything? There is a ton. However, I'm trying really hard not to miss it as I know as soon as I get it back (in less than 2 weeks for sure!) I will miss being pregnant. For right now, I'm really just trying to enjoy the moment. Even as I sit here, sweating my ass off, with swollen feet and ankles and fingers and body...
Movement? Less and less. However, when she does move, it's pretty slow and deliberate. It's been fun watching my students' faces when she moves as they can really see it happen now. I always exclaim, "Look, it's the miracle of life!"
Food cravings? Salad. More particularly ranch dressing and sharp cheddar cheese. Delicious.
Anything make you queasy or sick? Not really!
Labor signs? The doctor did a quick check and I was 2-3 cm dilated and about halfway effaced. The effacement seems to be the contention between doctors, but the dilation is definitely a good sign that these contractions are starting to work!
Symptoms? Being pregnant. That's my symptom.
Belly button in or out? Out.
Linea nigra? Barely there, but there. But barely.
Wedding ring on or off? On until this morning. We slept with the windows open last night and it was very muggy. I'm guessing that led to some swelling. I was shocked as 99% of the time, my ring slides on easily. But nope! Not this morning. Couldn't even get it over my knuckle!
Happy or moody? Pretty happy for the most part. This weekend was a little tough, for both myself and Eric, but for the most part, I feel good so I'm pretty happy.

Looking forward to: Giving birth! :)

Here's to 9 weeks left!