The Battle of the Bulge, Part 3: Week 7

Considering I have three children under the age of four (which I feel like I mention a lot, but in all honesty, it's my entire life right now, so I have no choice but to mention it), these last seven weeks have been straight-up survival mode.

I have been stuffing my face with anything I can get my hands on. Combine that with the fact that my pubic bone/sciatic nerve are still bothering me, the fact that in these seven weeks, we have dealt with two surgeries, two bouts of the flu, another ear infection, recovery from having a baby, and that baby getting thrush, I really can't be too hard on myself.

But last Sunday, when I saw the picture that I took with my mother, grandmother and kids, I said to myself that I really need to take better care of myself.

First of all, I'm always hungry. ALWAYS. It sounds like an excuse, but seriously, I can't get enough food. And when you're in survival mode, you don't stop to count calories, or really, give a shit what you're eating. You could probably put something like squid in front of me and I wouldn't think twice about shoveling it into my mouth.

Second of all, did I mention I have three kids under four? I couldn't care less about counting calories or giving a shit what I put in my mouth. As long as it gets rid of the hunger pains.

Third of all, Drew is a fairly good baby, and in the afternoons, he takes a solid nap. Which allows me to utilize my new kitchen. I really like using my new kitchen, particular my "baking corner" where I have everything nicely and neatly stored and can access it with ease. Only the problem with that is I never bake anything healthy. Pumpkin bars? Blueberry muffins? Banana bread? Once I bake it, I shovel it in, just like the rest of it.

So going back to the picture, on Sunday when I got home with the kids, I decided that was when I was really going to take stock and invest in my weight. Considering I already have an issue with the way I look normally, I was horrified when I saw this photo.

I bought a scale, downloaded an app to help hold me accountable and away I have gone!

39 Weeks and incredibly heavy! Less than a week later, I went in to be induced!

With my pregnancy, I was heavier starting out because of the anti-anxiety medicine I was on to deal with all of Catherine's issues (and the mom guilt that was incredibly heavy).

At James and Catherine's birthday parties, most likely about the time I got pregnant. I weighed approximately 165.

The combination of pubic bone and sciatic nerve pain did me in. I did a lot of sitting, and a lot of eating. From my typical, ideal weight of 160, I went in to be induced weighing 205. That's a whole 45 pounds gained, the most of any of my pregnancies.

I love taking fun pictures with my kiddos and this was just a quick snapshot/selfie. I was horrified when I saw this picture. At first, I thought surely it was just a bad angle. Then I saw the photo I took with my kids, my mother, and my grandmother. Nope, this is my reality!

So on Sunday, I decided that enough was enough! Now that spring is here, we are coming out from under the dark rock that was our life for seven weeks. The only problem I have with all of this is that none of my clothes fit...

Do I own the typical flow-y shirts and looser pants from previous post-pregnancies? Or just having them in my typical wardrobe? Absolutely. But even some of those don't fit right, and it's not necessarily because I am big, but these boobs are out of control. 

I always loathed being smaller chested, until I had the chance to take these 40C's, and depending, 40D's, out of a joyride. I fricken hate it. they are so big, I feel like they push my arms out from my sides. It's terrible. I can't wait to have my A/B's back!

Here they are, out of control! 

So, I have been watching what I eat, and making sure I eat every two or three hours to keep the metabolism going. One of the big things my mom would always tell me when I talked about weight gain was that pop was the worst culprit. All that corn syrup! So funny story - the morning after I had Drew, I knew I needed a Mountain Dew or I would get a headache, so I had Eric bring the one from the previous day from the truck. I took one swig and thought I was going to throw up. It was horrible tasting! Thus began my taste aversion to all pop, which is bizarre, considering I used to drink it every day. But now I can't stand the sight or taste of it. So what does one person do when they rely on pop for all their caffeine needs, but can't drink it? Go to cappucino mix, of course! Which only has 120 calories per 4 tablespoons. So, that's what I have been drinking every morning. It will be interesting to see what I will do when I go back to work! But for now, that works.

So in all, I have been watching what I eat, and breastfeeding, of course, and here I am, down 4 pounds from Sunday. So, that was interestingly easy. The app that I have, of course, doesn't allow for calories burned through breastfeeding, so I just put it in as an exercise (and somedays, it is exercise!) and put the least amount that you might burn (400), and that helps to keep me accountable. It's nice to see that my "hard" work is doing something. Hopefully by this time next week I'm down at least 8 pounds. Hopefully!

The first trial run with a new tunic, hair did, make-up on and ready for a work day! Only took me an hour and a half! 

'til next week!

1.5 Months and Another Update

Last Friday night, I found myself miles away from showering, breastfeeding Drew while sitting on a children's stool in the bathroom while my other two children took a bath, a.k.a. dumping water from their cups onto the floor outside of the bath.

Oh, and I was also bawling. I was at the end of my rope. And my children aren't even home with me all day.

Drew had not slept in hours, and was constantly nursing. Eric had stupidly scheduled his vasectomy for earlier that morning. Catherine was developing another ear infection, while Drew was somehow getting pink-eye, and James was just being a 3.5 year old butt head, as some 3.5 year old's can be.

Did I mention that I was bawling?

At some point, Eric came up and got Drew from me, all while miraculously keeping his bag of peas on his balls in tact, which was pretty impressive. I got the kids out of the bath, cleaned up the mess on the floor, and prayed that bedtime would be early that night.

I somehow managed to find some time to shower, while Drew slept in Eric's arms as Eric iced himself in our recliner. The other two were in bed and I remember standing in the spray wondering how the fuck my life had ended up like this?

And what's even more exciting is that in the face of it all, I have to somehow hold myself together and be the matriarch that my entire family needs me to be. But on Friday night, I was done.

Saturday morning wasn't much better. I had gone to bed with wet hair, making it a disheveled mess on Saturday morning. I was wearing spit-up covered sweat pants that are too short, a nursing top that is not flattering at all, and I come downstairs to a house that is literally torn apart by two children because I had not had time to clean it up.

I came downstairs to a text message from my best friend saying, "I am headed your way!"

How could I have forgotten that she was coming to meet Drew? Even moreso, how could I call her and tell her not to come?

But that's exactly what I did. My house was a mess, my hair was a mess, my kids were a mess (because let's be honest, they didn't take baths, they played around in the water) and quite frankly, my life was a mess. I called, an anxiety-riddled, overwhelmed, mother with three kids under the age of 4 and my life seriously felt like it was falling apart.

And I was doing it all on my own, since Eric could hardly walk, let alone take care of three children.

A couple days before this, Eric's mom had asked if she could do anything since Catherine was getting tubes in her ears on Tuesday. I jokingly said, "You can come down this weekend and help, since Eric is getting snipped on Friday." We didn't hear anything, but on Saturday afternoon, here comes Terri and her boyfriend on their white steed-like pick-up truck to save the day. And the first thing they did was load up James and Catherine and take them to the library.

Did I mention that I cried?

They backed down the driveway and I sat on the couch and wept. I had not had a break in what seemed like a week. Between Catherine's tubes, Eric's vasectomy, Drew's unusual crying streak, and my trying to just keep the house going, I had not had a quiet, clean house in what felt like ages.

You would think all this crying would be a precursor to maybe getting some medicine for post-partum depression, but I've been through post-partum depression, and this is not it. This is just sincerely being overwhelmed by the demands brought on me by three children. And the person who is getting the brunt of my being pulled in nine million different directions is James.

James: "Mom, will you play with me?"
Me: "Absolutely, but Drew is crying, which means he's hungry. Let me feed him and then I will play with you."

And in the 20 minutes it takes for me to feed and burp Drew, 20 things have happened to pull my attention further away from that request.

I forgot to stir the meat in the crockpot. Oh shoot! I forgot to add the seasonings! While I'm in the kitchen, I'll put these dishes away. Oh wait, I have to redirect Catherine to play with something in the living room so she's not getting in the dishwasher or drawers. Crap, Drew is crying, I need to get his pacifier. Ugh, he came unswaddled! Catherine is getting into something she shouldn't. Drew is crying again. The cat wants outside. I trip over something and go to put it away.

And then James says, "Mom, are you ready to play with me?"

Shit! I forgot that I was going to play with him!

And so it goes, round and round like that, a sick cycle where I can't ever get ahead and where I feel like I am always neglecting one of my kids. But James the most because he is the one who needs me the least.

So I try to put aside small amounts of time with them. Sometimes it's James and Catherine together, such as this morning, watching George. Then I put Catherine down for her nap, and James and I watched some more Curious George. Once Drew is up, I'll take him downstairs and feed him.

And so it goes.

I have learned to forgive myself. I have learned to roll with the punches, not worry about "getting ready for my day," and there have even been a few days where I went without a shower, and even one day where I went without brushing my teeth (so gross!). But that was one day that has come and gone, and slowly, we are working into a routine with three kids.

I had no idea it was going to be so difficult.

So onward, to our updates!

Drew-boo:
You, sir, are gigantic. You eat like a champ, and I'm pumping extra milk here and there, which is exciting. You weigh about 12.5 pounds, so you're on par to be 13 pounds, maybe more, at your 2 month well-child check-up. I have put away all your newborn clothes (or rather, put them into bins to sell them at my next No-More-Kids yard sale), and have phased out almost all of your 0-3 month clothes. You are mostly in straight-up 3 month clothes, and surprisingly, they aren't even really that big on you. While we were back visiting family this weekend, I saw a picture of James at 3 months and holy moses, you look identical to him.

You are just now starting to smile and coo, which came slowly because you have been so miserable. You not only had a rash and fever last Sunday, but come to find out Wednesday, you had thrush. Which means I have thrush. I was confused as to why nursing had all of a sudden turned  painful again, and I thought it was a lazy latch. So I went to my breastfeeding support group, as I religiously do every week, for an LC to check you latch. She took one look at your tongue and said, "oh my, he has thrush, bad!" So we went to the doctor, who wasn't our typical ped. because ours was out of town. She wasn't very helpful, and didn't tell me anything to help me with my thrush, so I posted on a parenting group that I'm a part of. And the replies I received? That the nystatin that was prescribed to Drew would not be helpful and to instead, use grapefruit seed extract. Umm, where the hell do you find something like that? I can tell  you, not anywhere in town. After doing some research, it turns out that not only does GSE (grapefruit seed extract's street name, apparently) help, but also coconut oil. I religiously put coconut oil in his mouth every feeding, and it was been amazing. Combine that with the GSE, and he hardly has any blisters left in his mouth - mostly just a few on his cheeks. Not to mention, you are a much happier baby, and you're sleeping so much more soundly! This mama is thrilled.

Speaking of sleep, you have finally gotten into somewhat of a routine, which is a little weird. You will fall asleep after your last "night" feeding about 9:00-9:30 and wake up for your first middle-of-the-night feeding at 1:30 a.m. Exactly. Literally, there is no deviation in this at all. Whenever I hear you starting to stir and wake up, I check my phone (because sometimes, I'm so tired I'm not sure if I actually fell asleep or not). It's always 1:30 on the nose. You eat a lot in that time, and are usually done between 2:10 and 2:20 a.m. and God bless you, you fall right back asleep. It usually takes me a little while to get back to sleep after that, but then you're up again at 5:30 a.m. exactly. Again, there is absolutely NO deviation from this time. Not 1:31 a.m. or 5:31 a.m. It's always 1:30 a.m. or 5:30 a.m. on the nose. crazy. So it's exciting that you are actually going about 3.5 hours between feedings at night.

During the day, it's another story. Usually after that 5:30 a.m. feeding, it's another one at 8:30 a.m., then 10:30 or 11:00 and then you're down for the count until at least 3:30 or 4:00. Normally, I can feed you in the late afternoon right before I go get the other two from daycare. Somewhere in there, about once or twice a week, I try to pump some milk just to get a freezer stash going, but I would say the fact that you're gaining about a half pound (or more) a week, says that I have plenty of milk for you.

All in all, you are an easy baby, when you're not in pain from thrush, or coughing and stuffed up from a virus. Or being pummeled in the face with a rattle from Catherine. Welcome to the shitshow! :)

Catherine: 
This weekend, I took a picture of you wearing horns and wearing a onesie that said "Little Princess" and boy can a picture speak a thousand words! I would say that is you, to a T, most of the time. You are frequently voicing your opinion, throwing temper tantrums (to which we ignore or threaten time-out, which puts the kabosh on those real quick), or pummeling Drew in the face with his blanket, rattle, or trying to stick his pacifier in his eye. If you're not trying to steal the pacifier for yourself. All in all, you love to help, you love getting into things, and you are pretty wild. I have a feeling in about 12 years, I will be doing everything to break a wild horse, but until then, I will try to bask in the fact that you are adorable most of the time.

You got your tubes in your ears March 8, and a week later, you had nasty, brownish/red/yellow goop coming out of it. Yep, another damn ear infection! Seriously? This one came with the typical fever, but the fever only stuck around about 12 hours, was lower grade than typical, and the nurse said if your ear was draining, the tubes were doing their job. I have also noticed since you got tubes that you have less of a runny nose. It seemed like we were constantly wiping your nose (or you were wiping it on something, which was awesome), and now, we still have to wipe your nose, but it seems like it is so much better than it was! For your ear infection, we just had to start the antibiotic ear drop regimen all over again, get a new prescription (there are so many damn prescriptions for our kids sitting in our kitchen cupboard, it's ridiculous), and hopefully, that will be the last ear infection we will see in a long while. Hopefully.

I have noticed that you are starting to be more verbal. You will point to things and use the same vowel for each, and I swear you are trying to say James. I also swear you are trying to say Drew. You can say Mom, which is adorable, but you won't say Dad (which you did before we started to see your speech regression). I suppose it will work it's way back, but it's so nice to see you actually starting to progress on your own, rather than us just hoping for something that will happen.

When they cleaned your ears prior to the surgery, the doctor said your ears weren't even fluid filled, but it was more like a jelly substance. So no wonder you couldn't hear! The doctor even said he guaranteed that you could hear better, even if the rest of our "issues" don't improve. Once we got you home, I noticed it right away, as it was 72 degrees, we had the windows open, and it was garbage day. That truck came into the cul-de-sac and was horribly loud, and you hated it. You are also very quick to react to barking dogs, which I am sure you haven't really heard before. You either scramble the other direction, or scramble into our arms.

You are still what I would call "needy" but you are beginning to be so much more independent. The most exciting thing is that you are actually starting to play with James. More times than not we are trying to keep you apart, but there have been glimpses of what it will be like when the two of you are a little older, and it melts my heart. At the end of all of this, I am so glad we had our kids really close together. I can't wait to see how close you will be when you're older.

James:
Oh, little boy, you are ready for a world beyond toddler-hood, and it makes me a little sad, but on the other hand, I am excited for it and for you. We signed you up for pre-school, but I haven't received any word on whether you were accepted. However, I did receive an email about a mandatory parent meeting for all students accepted. Ummm... where's the acceptance email? I haven't emailed the woman back, as I am sure I will get an acceptance email. For God's sakes, the registration is a Google Form, and I am a heavy google user. So I didn't have to put in any of my information, the google form auotmatically did it for me. So I just had to select the time of day I wanted James to go (morning or afternoon), and some of his information. I refreshed until the link was live at 7:01 p.m. and was finished at 7:02. I also credit my mad typing skills. :)

We also signed you up for Wee Ball, which is essentially a dumbed down version of Tee Ball. Although you won't be 4 by the cut-off, which would put you in the 3-4 year old division, I signed you up for the 4-5 year old division because you are 43 inches tall, you are 42 pounds, and honestly, you throw and kick a wicked ball. Everyone who has seen him kick and throw a ball have commented on how good he is at throwing, catching and kicking, It seems like you are growing up so fast.

Us: 
It seems like Eric and I are passing ships in the night, but it's getting better. Just a little while ago, we had ten whole minutes on the couch by ourselves. No kids (James was upstairs watching George) and Iowa Basketball on the TV. It was glorious. Now that Eric has finished a couple of outstanding jobs, his work schedule is more manageable. His balls are healing, and things are good.

Not to mention, it's the first day of Spring!

I hear a baby crying! Lunch time!

Our Family of 5: An Update

I knew I needed to blog everything that has been happening in our lives in the three short weeks since Drew joined it, but I didn't know how to pare it all down. So instead, here it is: an update.

Drew-Boo:
Oh my, son, you are a champion nurser. You were born 8 pounds, 7 ounces. We made it all the way down to 7 pounds, 7 ounces when we had our two day check up at the doctor's office. On Wednesday, at my breast-feeding support group, you weighed in at 9 pounds, 14 ounces. Holy hell. And you have been consistently been eating about 4-4.5 ounces each time I have gone in and weighed you. Good Lord, boy! BUT, in all that, I am thrilled that we are having such a great nursing experience. I went into this breastfeeding experience with a very different expectation than I had with Catherine. I bought formula ahead of time to prepare for those cluster feeding experiences that I hated so much with Catherine. But I have only used two ounces, one ounce two different times. And it was during cluster feeding both times. The past 24 hours have been difficult as you have been nursing consistently about every two hours. And that includes the hour or so that you will nurse. Last night, you nursed from 3:30 p.m. until 7:00 p.m. and then from 9:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. It was tough, especially because Eric wasn't feeling well, but otherwise, we kept on keepin' on.

You are growing so quickly, I am putting your newborn onesies away (22 inches long already!), and your newborn pants won't really fit around your size 1 diapers. But because I sold so many of James' clothes, you have a mish-mash of clothing items that don't really fit. Not to mention, the only pacifier we seem to be able to find is one of Catherine's old ones, which is pink and has a heart on the front. Sooo, for that, I'm sorry. Today, at the grocery store, I could tell the person talking to me about "the baby" couldn't tell if he was a girl or a boy. The onesie says boy, the pacifier says girl. Hmmm, sorry son!

James is absolutely smitten with you. He tells us all the time that he "loves Droob." It's amazing. Catherine is a little bit more indifferent, but she does try to help with you when you're crying by shoving our only pacifier into your eye. Right area, wrong orifice. But, she tries.

Speaking of Catherine:

Our Sweet Catherine:
I have some intense mom-guilt when it comes to our little girl. I wish I would have known what I know now about breastfeeding. I wish I would have done things differently with her. I wonder if I would have how many things would be different.

We finally got an appointment with the ENT clinic, which was yesterday, and the news we received was devastating to me as a mommy. According to your hearing test, you can hear the equivalent of if you or I had our fingers in our ears. When the doctor was telling us that, I thought, "Oh, well, that explains a little bit." However, I didn't realize how much until I actually tried it in the privacy of our bedroom after putting Drew down. I was shocked. You can hardly hear anything, little girl, and it makes me feel terrible for being short with you when you don't do something that I ask you to do. Or when I have put you in time out when you didn't follow my directions etc. Because you can't hear shit! It breaks my heart. Thankfully, surgery will be happening fairly quickly thanks to the fact they had an opening March 8. The doctor said once you have surgery, odds are your hearing will be 100%. Which makes me feel better, but not that much better.

We have a sound machine that we have used in your room since you were a baby because James can be really loud after you've gone to bed (and you still go to bed at 6:30 and James not until 7:30/8:00), so we have been using this sound machine to drown out all the noises a little boy makes. I realized last night you probably can't even hear it. And that made me incredibly sad. You can hear music, and you dance to it, but I guarantee it's just the bass beats. It's interesting to think about, and it makes me feel awful. Even though, in this case, there was nothing that I could do to help the fluid in your ears, but holy cow. I am trying to forgive myself, but it's difficult. There are so many things I know now that I wish I could go back and change.

James Thomas: 
Oh buddy, you are amazing. In every awe-inspiring, horrifying sense of the word. You are loud, you are opinionated, you are FUNNY (when did you get a sense of humor??) and you are having a tough time at daycare. Thinking about it today, when you started daycare, you had four friends who were, essentially, the same age as you. There is only one of those friends left. You keep talking about starting school, which should be happening next year (pretty exciting!), and you so badly want to be like the "big kids." So it's hard when you fight us to go to daycare. We get it. It's hard to go to a place that has changed so much. And I feel badly for you, But at the end of the day, what an important life lesson you are learning. And I"m sure it's harder on mom than it is on you, but holy cow, what a battle it has become. Hopefully, it goes away soon.

You love "Droob" and tell us this all the time. When Drew first came home, I was worried because you started treating Catherine pretty poorly. Taking her toys, shoving her down, and just overall not being very nice. Luckily, that is subsiding, and you're sliding into your role as a big brother. It's adorable, as you always want to make sure you are kissing "Droob" good night, and one night, when I came downstairs to grab some water and Drew started crying, I heard you on the monitor saying, "It's ok, buddy." Melt my heart!

You are such a lover and a fighter rolled up into this loud little ball of boy. I am enjoying this trip and you certainly keep things interesting!

The Kitchen:

Ohhhhh, the kitchen. Ugh. It's slow-going, but at least I am no longer walking on a combo of sub-floor, 70's linoleum, 90's linoleum, and our new flooring. Eric was able to rip it all out two days ago and now I am just walking on sub floor and our new flooring. Hopefully, Eric will be able to install it sometime this weekend.

All of our cabinets are in, all the handles are on the cabinets, and I have begun arranging the kitchen the way I want. Although it's extremely stressful, which Eric makes fun of me for. I am having a hard time figuring out where I want to put things. I actually don't really like our lazy susan's, and luckily, they came with a shelf you can use instead. Even though it's going to be a bitch, Eric is going to uninstall the lazy susan's and just install the shelves for me. For the things I will be keeping in there, it's more feasible to have shelving anyway. So I have been SLOOOOOWLY putting things here and there, and I think I like the set-up I have going. Eric teases me that even if I decide, I can change my mind. The thing he doesn't understand is I think things through greatly before I execute. So then when I execute, I only have to do so once and not have to think about it anymore. However, this time, I don't know if what I decide is actually going to work, or if everything will be fit, or if I will have to change it. I don't want to do that. So I am thinking it through A LOT. Oh well! It's working out so far!

I was able to put every single glass Anchor and Corningware dish that I own (which happens to be at least 20 - WTF?) in ONE CABINET. That's awesome. I used to have to keep them in the hutch that my dad built me. Some of those glass baking dishes have never seen the oven. Or the dishwasher. The countertop was installed, everything has been painted, we are slooooowly picking out backsplash, which has proven to be very difficult. Eric doesn't want the thin glass tile that is so in right now, because that's just it: it's "in." Soon, it will be "out" and we want a classic kitchen that will hold for the next seven years, as our seven year plan is to move to a bigger house. Wahoo!

Slowly, but surely, our kitchen is coming along, with all the other things Eric has been doing, is actually a miracle. I am hoping that we will be able to finish it by the time April rolls around. I think the goal was going to be before Drew-boo came along, but obviously, that was a pipe dream!

Eric and Me:

I am thoroughly enjoying my maternity leave, and thankfully, Drew has been a great baby, so I am glad to help him out. Next, I am hoping that we will get into our taxes, as I would really like to have those done as soon as possible! We shall see.

We are in desperate need of a date night, but he has been working at home the past week, so I have been able to see him and we are able to spend a lot of time together when Drew is sleeping, which is nice.

I go back to school April 4, but I am thinking of taking another two weeks. Eric doesn't know this, but now that I'm staring down the barrel of week 4 of my maternity leave, I really don't know if I will be ready to go back at week 8. Week 10 would probably be better, and I know I will be able to do that. I plan to broach the subject with Eric this weekend sometime, so hopefully, he will be supportive of it. We shall see - it will be another two weeks of unpaid time, but I think for my breastfeeding experience, and for how much I have been breastfeeding, it will be worth it. We will see. There is no way that I want to be a stay at home mom, but I do want to spend this time with my last baby.

Speaking of last baby, yes, this is our last baby. The Iowa Urology Clinic phone number is the only thing on our fridge. Eric just has to call (because I'm not doing it for him!). I am slowly gathering stuff for my second "No More Kids" Yard Sale, and all in all, we are cruising through as a family of five. It's been fairly easy to throw a third into the fray. I believe going from one to two is much more difficult than two to three. People talk about zone defense with the third, but so far, it's been fairly easy. I am thankful for that.

Eric has been a rock star, Drew has fit into the picture nicely, Catherine's hearing and speaking issues will hopefully be resolved by summer, and James is well on his way to being ready for Pre-School. I am so thankful for our little family and I am ready to be done with this "having babies" part of my life.

No really, this was our last one. ;)

Drew Michael Engels

I wanted to name this post something like, "Welcome to the Shitshow!" but decided that your name was a more appropriate title! But I want to get your birth story down on this blog before I forget all the beautiful events that took place one week ago today (already??). 

My last pregnancy update (EVER) was definitely on point. I woke up nervous, jittery and I had a very bad feeling about how this labor and delivery was going to go. In all, I am glad I convinced my doctor that you were going to be a big boy and you came early, with the help of drugs, otherwise it could have been a bad situation. 

Wednesday night, the night before I was induced with you, Grandma Terri came down to stay with James since he had the flu and couldn't go to daycare the following day. Thank God for Grandma's! So your dad and I were up bright and early, getting ready to go. We ate breakfast, said our good-bye's and headed out. It was much less emotional than when we went to the hospital to have Catherine, most likely because this wasn't our first, or even second, rodeo. However, it is always surreal, that ride to the hospital, where you realize that no matter what, you are going to come back a family of five. 

We checked in, they gave us the crappiest room on the floor (seriously. And what's even more interesting about that is that a couple of nurses said it was the least busy they had been in a long time and had a ton of rooms open. Ummmmm, so, could we have gotten a bigger one, with a better bed for Eric?), and they got the pitocin started. 

It was slow-going at first, but the nurse also said they didn't want to rush into it before I could get my epidural. So Eric and I passed the time by hanging out, playing on our phones, talking about your name (Drew Michael was about the most concrete of names we had decided on for any of our children thus far. I knew you were going to be Drew before you were born, definitely), watching the contractions on the monitor. We guessed when you were going to get here, and since Catherine was born around 2:30, and knowing that once my body got going, it new how to labor and deliver a baby, I guessed you would be 8 pounds 3 ounces, born at 1:15 p.m. Eric guessed 9 pounds (thanks a lot!) born at 1:30 p.m. 

But I labored very slowly this time. I didn't want to have the epidural as early as I did with Catherine and be incapacitated that long, so I waited as long as I felt comfortable and finally asked for it about 10:30 a.m. It was an excrutiating experience, but it was the best epidural I have had thus far. The anesthesiologist kept hitting me on the right side. So she would take the needle out and put it back in. It was a long 5 minutes or so, but finally, she hit the money spot, and throughout the course of labor, I could move both my legs and still had some sensation. Not feeling by any means, but I could tell when someone was touching my leg etc. 

So 1:15 p.m. and 1:30 p.m. came and went. Eric's mom arrived about that time, but I was only at an 8. About 2:30, I was about a 9 and finally about 3:00, I was a 10, but there was a lip of my cervix that was caught at the top of your head. 

At 3:00, Dr. Dejong came in and broke down the table to start pushing. Now, at this point, I had not had anything to eat since 6:30 a.m. and I was STARVING. So when I started pushing, I thought I was going to throw up! The pushing was excrutiating, and even though I am a champion birther, it was so tough. I pushed with everything I had, but seemed like I was progressing so slowly. Thankfully, I could feel the contractions ramp up and worked with my body to push through them. Eric was amazing, per usual, and cheered me on, kept my face cool with a wash cloth and overall, was a champ in his own right. You have a pretty amazing dad. 

So I clamped down and pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, I was told they could see your head and how much hair you had (WHAT? I was having a child born with HAIR?)! But you were slow to come out. Once you did, they told me to stop pushing, with an urgency that even had me opening my eyes (the first time I have ever done so during a labor) to see what was wrong. 

The cord was wrapped around your neck three times. This is what I meant above when I said that had we waited for me to go into labor naturally, and you could have come very quickly, or the cord could have twisted even more, it could have been dangerous for you. 

So I waited and breathed through contractions as Dr. Dejong pulled on the cord to loosen it. It was hard to get his scissors in to cut it, but he managed and they told me to push one more time through a contraction. I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes with James and saw him come out, I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes and saw Catherine come out, I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes and saw you come out. Three of the most beautiful moments in my life. 

They put you on my chest, but true to form, you were stubborn and didn't want to breathe, so they whisked you away and put you on the table. 

I cannot remember what your dad said to me after James and Catherine were born, but this time, I will never forget it. He took my hand, leaned down and simply said, "I love you." It was one of the most sincere, raw moments between your dad and I. It was lovely and I will never forget it. 

Of course, then true to form, your good ole mom shooed Eric away to make sure you were doing ok while Dr. Dejong worked on me. It took me a long time to actually see you. I was surprised that I didn't cry, even when they put you on my chest, but I really think it's because I didn't SEE you. 

Finally, they brought you over to me, and there you were. Beautiful. And there I was, crying. 

8 pounds, 7 ounces, 21 inches long at 3:23 p.m. I didn't push for long, but it seemed like an eternity as every time I pushed, I was meeting the resistance of a cord that was wrapped tightly around your neck. It was as slow as James, it wasn't as quick as Catherine, but it was still beautiful. You are beautiful. 

All in all, it was a lovely day. My mom, your grandma, came in an hour or so afterward, while the nurse was helping me get cleaned up in the bathroom. When I came out, she was holding you in the rocking chair and crying. 

It was the first of our kids where I had seen her cry like that. I know it was because she was remembering my dad. 

All while we were preparing for your birth, all I could ever seem to think about was my dad. It still astounds me that your due date was February 5th. Even though that's one day earlier than the date of his death, it still happened to fall on the exact day. And that due date never wavered. Every time I was measured, with each ultrasound, I was reassured that by God, you were due February 5th. Even our 20 week ultrasound, where sometimes the head circumference says a different date than the development of the organs etc., everything lined up perfectly with February 5th. 

I think that's why I was leery of your labor and delivery. I had yet to see a sign from my dad. No cardinals. No looking at the clock randomly and seeing 11:11 (your birthday, in fact). No signs that were otherwise telling me it would be ok. 

Even after you were born, I didn't see any sign from my dad, telling me he was there. Even when I was pushing, toward the end when I was getting really tired, it seemed like I wasn't making any progress and I was feeling like I was going to throw up, I'm pretty sure I said, "C'mon dad, throw me a bone here!" There was still nothing. 

So in the wee hours of February 6th, the nurse came in to wake me up to nurse you. She left you with me, and since you were still only stirring, I took a few moments to wake myself up. I propped myself up in bed, and there was my sign. 

A red hat, donated by the American Heart Association. 

Seems trivial, and maybe a bit weird, but it was what was written on the pamphlet that really got me. "February is American Heart Month. In support, we ask that you post a photo of your new little one wearing their red hat on social media!" 

So, that is my goal for you today. I will post a picture in memory of my dad, one of the greatest men I knew.

You are perfect. In every sense of the word. Welcome to the shitshow, son. :) 

39 + 5

This week has been a little bit better than the last. Saturday and Sunday were tough, no joke. However, I was able to survive them. Barely. Eric worked god-awful hours (until 3 a.m. Monday morning god-awful). I have been having inconsistent contractions consistently, which is annoying. And I am just starting to feel like crap. Awesome.

In all, tomorrow's birth has me nervous, excited, scared, and exhausted. I am nervous it won't be as easy as the last two. I'm excited to meet you. I'm scared because of the afterbirth that I know will come because of it, and I am exhausted just thinking about three kids under the age of 4. Hopefully, somehow, I will survive it. Hopefully, this little family of 5 will survive it.

Random Thoughts from This Week: I have birthed two children, but for some reason, I am really scared to go in tomorrow.
Maternity clothes? Of course, but from now on, it shall be sweatshirts and yoga pants! Hip-hip-hooray!
Weight gain? Probably. I have done nothing but eat like crap and swell up like a sausage.
Stretch marks? Nope!
Best moment this week? The fact that today was my last day at school for a few months?
Worst moment this week? Today was, in fact, my last day, but I also had to leave early to get James because he has the flu! Luckily, my mother-in-law is here now and will be watching him tomorrow. Hallelujah!
What the doctor says: Nothing because I am being induced tomorrow!
Any symptoms? Contractions, lightning crotch, and overall just not feeling very well. Very tired, very ready to be done being pregnant!
Movement? Yes, surprisingly quite a bit!
Anything make you queasy or sick? Not really!
Looking forward to: At the end of all of this, I will be meeting my little man tomorrow. It seems like only yesterday we were bringing home a cross-eyed James Thomas and a scowly Little Miss Catherine Lynn. Crazy how this time has flown.

Here's to tomorrow, and our little family of 5.

39 Weeks!

There are people who say that God doesn't give you what you can't handle. There are also people who say that's a crock of shit. I am one of them.

I walk into our house and NOTHING is being done on our kitchen. Except for half a floor being laid for a couple of hours, and my painting. That's right, me. Up on a ladder. 3 feet above the ground and reaching up to the ceiling to paint. Because that's not dangerous or anything.

I slipped in the driveway of our daycare provider on Monday after my PT appointment, while carrying Catherine because I had forgotten it was supposed to snow (or I didn't even realize? it seems like so long ago, I'm not really sure). Since then, I have been able to barely walk. But yet I would come home to another crockpot creation or leftovers, feed myself and the kids, change into gross clothes and get to work painting. Thankfully today, I had another PT appointment, so it helped me immensely. Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be able to walk.

Every time I turn over in bed, my pubic bone pops. No joke. I didn't even know it was possible that you could dislocate your pubic bone, but apparently, I have. Your pubic bone is supposed to line up horizontal. Mine does not any more, thanks to this baby. So now when I pop my pubic bone, it kills. The pressure is unbelievable and the pain is pretty incredible. All in all, I am so excited to be done with this pregnancy.

School has been increasingly difficult. It's hard to find the motivation to be the "dog and pony show" that I was before I was so incredibly heavy, pregnant, and uncomfortable. I teach bell-to-bell, which I know there are several teachers out there who don't. I am on all the time, and I expect my students to be on all the time. And yesterday, I actually let them have 10 minutes of class time to themselves. I never allow that. EVER. And yesterday, because I was so uncomfortable just from standing in front of them, I had to sit down and let them have that ten minutes.

I am so tired and hardly sleeping. I have been hiring my 14 year old neighbor girl and my daycare providers 14 year old daughter to watch my kids so I can do the things around the house that Eric would normally help me with, but can't because he has all these jobs that are coming due.

Today, a colleague, who has the same due date as me, gave birth to a healthy baby boy. And all day I got to deal with, "You have 12 hours to have your baby at the same time as Cassie!" Or, "think you'll go today too?" No. I don't think I'll go today, or tomorrow, or the next. Because that's not how my pregnancy works. But here I am, surrounded by people who apparently have their babies early. Talk about repeated slaps in the face!

And at the end of the day, I am incredibly lonely. I feel like I'm doing this parenting, and this pregnancy, all by myself. There came a time today when I wondered if Eric would even be able to stay with me in the hospital, or if he would have to go finish a job somewhere. He swears the kitchen will be done in time, he swears he will have everything finished, hopefully by Monday, but in the end, I don't foresee it happening. I am throwing up prayers to my dad all the time, asking him to help Eric get everything done in time, but unless there is a miracle, I don't think it will happen. It almost feels like I will forever be walking on a combination of half done walnut wood flooring, subfloor, 80's linoleum and the old laminant flooring we laid when we first moved in, which is still in our foyer.

Onward, I guess.

Random Thoughts from This Week: Are we done yet?
Maternity clothes? they are taunting me from the closet. Will today be the last day I get to wear my hot pink pants? Will tomorrow be the last day I wear my cute wrap dress? I am ready to put them away! 
Weight gain? Yes, which led to an interesting convo at the doctor's office.
Stretch marks? Nope!
Best moment this week? Last Friday night I went to Christy's with the rest of the "cul-de-sac" girls and they proceeded to make me 20 freezer meals for after the baby gets here. I couldn't believe it. Most likely, with leftovers, that will last me an entire month. I was floored and so touched that they would think to do that for me. It was also a lot of fun to just sit around afterward and chat.
Worst moment this week? On Friday, Catherine threw up, on Saturday she had a fever all day, and on Sunday, I finally took her to Urgent Care. Guess what? A fucking ear infection. So we tried an ALL NEW family of anti-biotics. It seems to have worked, but those three days were endless. Then James had a fever and cough on Sunday night, but luckily didn't wake up with a fever on Monday, so off to daycare he went, although he was clearly not feeling well. Last night was the first night that both of my babies seemed to be in good moods and feeling good. Just in time, right?
What the doctor says: Still very swollen, still dilated to a 3. He tried stretching me, but just like with James and Catherine, I have not noticed anything and doubt I will. Just some blood-tinged mucous, but that is what happens every time. Luckily, my conversation about my swelling, weight gain AND how I tend to have big babies no matter what size I turn out to be lead him to try to get me an induction next week. Which is another reason why I have been freaking out. It looks like it could be Thursday, and that's a week from today. And we are nowhere near finishing the kitchen, or the hall bath, or really, do we have any semblance of order in our house.
Any symptoms? Just a ton of contractions that never go anywhere. Typical!
Movement? Probably not. I am going to be pregnant forever.
Anything make you queasy or sick? Not that I know of, but I have been feeling nauseous. Every little thing that I say to anyone gets the reply, "Oh, it could be anytime!" Yeah, it should be!
Looking forward to: Holy shitballs, getting this baby out.

Here's to one more week... maybe.

38 Weeks!

It's funny that every week seems to get busier... and busier... and busier. Eric and I have barely seen each other the past week, I've been in charge of the kids by myself, at this point in my pregnancy, and I am fricken exhausted. I am hoping this baby comes early, but then again, I don't.

Random Thoughts from This Week: James has become obsessed with the movie "Home" in which the cute, animated aliens are called "Boovs." I'm wondering if that was just some sick, perverted joke the writers put in there, knowing that all little girls and boys would not be able to pronounce the "v" and just say "Boobs."
Maternity clothes? Oh Lordy, things are getting smaller. At this point, I'm not looking in my closet to see what clothes I'll be able to wear again when I'm not pregnant, but I'm looking at the maternity clothes I'll be able to wear again when I'm not pregnant. 
Weight gain? No, surprisingly. Although we have been busy as hell, so that could be part of it!
Stretch marks? Nope!
Best moment this week? Uhhh... I have been having some really great rehearsals at school lately... that's about all. And the drywall was finished on our kitchen today. So... that's done with. Now it will be time to paint...
Worst moment this week? Catherine's ear infection came back on Monday, and today, I was home with a sick James. Just an elevated fever and cough, but still...
What the doctor says: Still very swollen, dilated to a 3, "should have a baby in the next few weeks." haha.........
Any symptoms? Yes! When I went to the doctor on Tuesday, I told him we needed to get things moving. He laughed, but then did some stuff to try and get things moving. It hurts, but since then, we've had bloody mucous-y discharge. Continuously. Hopefully, that was the sign Baby E3 needs to start the process... And hopefully, but not hopefully, the process doesn't take too long...
Movement? Yes, and I think it's downward. You've been making me cringe for a couple days now. Hello lightning crotch!
Anything make you queasy or sick? Ummm, nope, not that I can remember, that is.
Looking forward to: When Eric's "hell" week is over with. Which is not looking good. I am so thankful he is in high demand, in late January, which is unusual for the construction business, but I'm not excited about the late nights, no forward movement on our kitchen (except the drywall) and really, I am ready to be done being pregnant. I am looking forward to this weekend when I have our babysitter coming over so I can do some work in the kitchen and hopefully get some things done with freezer meals, but we will see. OH YES! I am also looking forward to my girls night out tomorrow night - but really it's a night in and we're making freezer meals. Wahoo! I can't wait.

Here's to two more weeks........ hopefully, but not.