Scarlett Jane: Birth Story

 I got 45 minutes of sleep the night Scarlett was born. 

It wasn't a night for sleep. It was a night for daughter-having, I love yous, thank yous, and this-is-your-new-nurse-please-pay-careful-attention-while-she-talks-your-ear-off-while-another-nurse-makes-your-3-hour-old-cry-in-ways-you-always-said-you-would-never-let-her. Then that nurse will take your baby away and prick her skin and it will be a very long ten minutes. Because you haven't been that far from your daughter since she was just a tiny piece of you plus your husband that no one even knew existed yet. 

January the ninth started at 4am. We gathered our bags and kissed our dogs goodby (yuck, furball) and left for the hospital in some pretty thick fog. As we made our way into the city limits, Texan said, "Remember this. (Dramatic hand flourish) January 9th, a cold, foggy morning." We will always remember that dark, hazy drive as we clung to the few hours of anticipatory sleep we had allowed ourselves.

As we entered the hospital, a desk clerk pointed to the labor and delivery corridor to the left and we walked through the wide double doors to a busy woman who was pleasantly plump and even more pleasantly friendly. It felt incredible to answer her question, "Here for an induction?" With a resounding "YES!" She took my weight and hid it from me for my own sanity, then told us to wait for the real secretary to return from tucking a c-section patient into bed. When she returned, she took us to room 17 where I was given a gown and told to undress completely except for the gown, which had a stain on the left breast. All I could think of was a Jim Gaffigan comedy routine where he pokes fun at the idea of giving birth in a gown someone died in yesterday. I even did my own rendition of the routine for Texan, who was unabashed. The room was totally set up for delivery including the little examination bed for the baby and receiving blankets and all the monitors for my contractions. It was so surreal, like being a kid and walking through the gates at Disney World for the first time. Are we really here? Is this going to be the best day of my life? 

My first nurse was Jennifer. She looked to be about 18, and had the fastest and steadiest hands I could've hoped for from someone placing my IV for Pitocin and fluids to hydrate me and setting up mine and Scarlett's monitors. She was very friendly, and I was sad that we had come at the end of her 12-hour shift. By 7:30, my new nurse was Jena. She wore a silver-sequence headband that I assumed she had borrowed from one of her SIX children she told me she had. She assisted my doctor as he broke my water--which I expected to hurt for some reason--then made me very comfortable. Then we waited. It wasn't long before I had gone from 2cm to 4cm and it seemed the pitocin was doing its job. My contractions were noticeable but not uncomfortable in the least. In fact, it wasn't until noon that I was feeling the pain of my contractions. I asked nurse Jena for some pain relief and she called in the anesthesiologist to administer an epidural. I could've sworn I had told Jena I didn't want the epidural, but I guess not. So she gave me Staydol to take off the edge and told me if I changed my mind about the epidural to let her know. Well, it wasn't until 6pm that I found out I was still at 4cm and was in agony, that I decided to get the epidural. It took about 10 minutes of careful deliberation and coercing from Jena, who assured me that it wouldn't slow down my labor and actually, it would help me relax and that would make me dilate faster. Her words to me after I got it were, "I'd rather get a ride to Dallas than walk. If you know what I mean." I know. Why take the hard road when there's the modern convenience? My newfound joy that I found in painlessly contracting and playing cards with my dad and close friend was cut short when my doctor let me know that if I hadn't dilated to at least a 6pm by 9pm then he would do a c-section. 

At that point my dad settled in for the long haul, and we all tried to be cheery about how a c-section only takes 35 minutes. "And you'll still get to hold her right away, Boo." Or "it won't be how you pictured but it will have the same end result," eventually had me calm enough to accept it. Then at 9:30 pm  the contractions got intense and all at once quite painful. I called my new nurse, Charity, to tell her about the change. She said we would monitor them but we needed to not turn up the epidural at this point. That was fine, because contracting was exciting and not nearly as painful as it had been pre-epidural. When the doctor came in around 10 pm to check me, he announced that I was almost 8cm. There was much rejoicing.

 

My dad and Texan's mom helped me through my contractions for the next hour or so. My dad watched the monitor and told me when each contraction was at its peak so I could know when the pain was coming to an end, and Texan's mom rubbed my back through each contraction. This was Heaven because my back was covered in itchy tape from the epidural. Nurse charity promised to check me again around 11, and when she did, I was fully dilated and fully effaced, but the baby hadn't dropped. For this check, she had asked our parents to step into the curtained alcove of our room--an area with a couch and a tv for family visiting. So when they heard, "I'll prepare the delivery table," they were pretty scared that they were going to be stuck back there through the delivery. "Wait! Let us leave first!" Pretty funny moment.

When the parents had gone and the lights were turned to full-brightness, charity returned with her charge nurse who checked me and said, "The head has definitely dropped." Charity had been wrong, and I was glad. Because by 11:45, I was pushing. It was just me, Texan and Charity in the room and it felt so low-key. None of the sweaty screaming like in the movies. Just holding my breath for 10 counts and pushing with all my might. (Also, I threw up once. Never seen that in the movies). Then 15 minutes later, Scarlett was crowning and my doctor came in to deliver her. It was another 20 minutes of pushing before she arrived. 

Pushing was the best thing I've ever done. It was the first time in 9 months that I was in control of my pregnancy. I wanted it to be over, so I made sure it was quick! The funniest part was that it took 35 minutes--the exact amount of time it would've taken for the c-section. The marker board in the room had said January 9, so in between contractions while I was resting to push again, I had Texan run and change the date. 

 

Here we are at 10-days old. Our Scarlett is a laid-back enthusiastic eater. Her hobbies include nursing, sleeping in up to 3 hour intervals, looking like her daddy, and smiling for no reason. 

The day leading up to her birth, and every day since can be categorized under the heading: Best Days of my Life.

Week 40

As the longest week of my pregnancy to date, the post for this week has taken the longest for me to muster the mojo to write. Not only have I been faced with inner-struggles, (man vs. self) I have also combatted outside forces which have weakened me to the core, (man vs. the world).

Since I have never been pregnant, I can honestly say, I have never with great conviction given a woman in my situation advice. Recently, my friend had a baby, and toward the end of her pregnancy she was feeling the itch to get it over with already. I remember telling her to let her baby stay in there a little longer because she was only 37 weeks at the time. But that has been the extent of my wisdom. Here are the top ten things I will not say to a pregnant woman in my situation after having been in my situation. (If you have told me any of these things, I do not fault you for it, and you're wonderful).

10. She is staying in there because it is cold out here. The first 17 times, this was sweet. Don't get me wrong. But the longer this lasts, the more literally I take every gem of advice. So now I just think, "you don't really think the baby is in there steadying the walls of my uterus and working against every contraction in hopes that I'll wait until spring to force her out, do you?"

9. Sleep now. I'm sorry. I sleep 10-12 hours every night. Then I take a 2 hour nap almost every day. I am sleeping. I am sleeping a ton. I know I won't sleep when the baby comes. But here's a thought, I want her here so badly, I am pretty sure I won't try to put her back in so I can sleep more. I'll deal with it like everyone else does. With coffee and crying.

8. She's not ready. I noticed.

7. No baby yet? This one speaks for itself 

6. Have you tried ____(fill in blank with wives tale remedy like eating pineapple or eggplant parm)____?

5. Let her stay in there and get nice and big. No. And, as if I had a choice.

4. She's waiting for my birthday. She doesn't even know when your birthday is--and neither do I. Be gone.

3. Enjoy this time. This one is sometimes accompanied by "of silence" or "with your husband." What about the fact that my husband's favorite question is, "are you gonna have her soon?" 

2. That leads to my next one: You gonna have that baby soon?

1. I bet you are so ready. 

Now, like I said: if you have said any of things to me I don't find you revolting. But you have to understand that I have heard each of these things 10 times or more, even from complete strangers.

So, tomorrow is my 41-week checkup. I will be 40 weeks and 5 days. I just had a check on Friday, a little out of turn, because the doc was hoping I would have gone another couple of centimeters so he could induce today. And yet, here we are. I also had my normal 40-week checkup last Tuesday. So I'm feeling a bit like I live at his office. As I type, Texan is lying, destitute, on our bed. Occasionally he strokes my tummy or says something to SJ. But mostly he just looks like a sad puppy. This is one daddy who has waited long enough. 

It helps to sometimes look at the positive things that are happening in the here and now. Because the waiting and the hoping is wearing me thin. Also the fact that I have come down with terrible congestion and drainage, but the thought of going to sit in a doc's office around a bunch of people who are sicker than me just doesn't sen worth it. Here's something great that happened: the other day I found the perfect setting on my toaster for my pop tarts. When they popped up they were hot and gooey inside and crusty and perfect outside. Baby steps.

Also, Texan has taken a new interest in helping out in the kitchen. The other night I made spicy taco soup and he made the rue and helped stir as I poured and...well, he was more helpful than I'm making him sound.  

All my shows are coming back this month. Parks and Rec is back this Thursday, Hart of Dixie, and Downton Abbey are back as well. Also, I found a new show that I love on Netflix. It's called "Call the Midwife." Try it! 

One crisis narrowly averted today was the crisis of the frozen well. At 6:30 this morning, Texan woke me up saying, "We have no water. The well is frozen and so are all the pipes."

I must've laid there in bed freaking out for almost half an hour. I imagined bringing the baby home to a house where the floor had been ripped up to fix busted pipes. I imagined having to move out because the pipes were so badly damaged. I imagine going to stay with my parents but then remembered that my grandma is staying with them so there would be no conceivable place for us and the baby until the pipe got fixed. Because before I knew, it was 7 am and Texan was out the door and I was texting my friend (who recently moved in 3 doors down) asking if her well had frozen. She said it hadn't and offered to leave me a key so I could use her shower while she was at work. I accepted, then received orders from Texan to meet him at a half-way point to his work because he had forgotten his work keys. Outside it was 8 degrees. I loaded up the dogs--because announcing a car ride was faster than dragging them out of their warm bed into the backyard, and I hit the road at warp speed. I returned and spent most of the day remembering how pregnant and waterless I was. 

Thankfully, the landlords came over and unfroze the well and water was restored around 1:30 in the afternoon. The anxiety I felt was incredibly overwhelming. But thankfully I cry so much over not going into labor and the fear of an induction turning into an emergency c-section that all my tears were dried up (or frozen, like our well).

No appetite yesterday made me wonder if labor would appear soon. But I think it was from my lowly state, because I felt plenty hungry today.

So, I look forward to 8:50 tomorrow. I hope my doctor is able to see me and isn't in some emergency birthing situation at the hospital. And I hope we find out something about this baby inside me and when she no longer will be...

Week 39

Have you vet heard of a phantom pregnancy? It's a funny excuse for why husbands experience weight-gain and aches/pains along with their wifey-poo. My husband hasn't been possessed by the pregnancy phantom, but on Sunday night, he was possessed by the nesting bug and began CLEANING. Let's say, after being gone to my parents' for 5 days, the laundry was a little backed up. And I did use Saturday to tear down the Christmas tree and all decor and sweep the floors. So, the house was tidy, but not perfect. Around 6 o'clock I awoke from my Sunday nap to Texan giving a speech. I missed the first few lines due to...being asleep, but I woke up to him saying, "I can maintain the house without your help after the baby comes. But I can't be expected to clean all of this up then maintain everything. And if someone came over right now, I would be mortified." Wow. That's a tad on the theatrical side. I guess that meant he didn't want to have to do laundry. But then he really got going. He organized our walk-in bedroom closet, filled 3 garbage bags with stuff from our workout room closet and old clothes, and I finally got him to part with the THREE stand-up lamps we have been hanging onto for no reason. (Let's not mention the 2 baseball bats he found in a dry creek and was hanging onto in case of emergency--a baseball emergency). He organized our junk drawer in the kitchen and the cabinets under the kitchen sink and bathroom sinks. I almost got another lecture about the bottom kitchen cabinet, then he remembered that I haven't been able to get down on that level comfortably in weeks. So, he did his magic. It was about 2 hours of him running around the house asking, "what can we throw away?" *sigh* My loving pack-rat caught the clutter-clearing bug. It's only happened twice in our marriage, so I really enjoy it when he gets in this mood. I scrubbed the inside of the fridge, dusted, and mopped the floors yesterday. And now our house is as clean as ever for baby. The stage is set, and we await the star performer.

I just had my 40 week checkup. I am 39 weeks and five days today, and it was the first time I ever measured smaller than my  time. My belly measured 38 weeks. The worst news was that I am still only at 1 centimeter. I wanted to start crying, because I thought it would help, but I just feel too annoyed to even cry. My doctor wants to see me Friday for another check of the old cervix. His words, "Come back Friday, and we'll see what we can do. Then maybe we can have a baby Monday."  Kind of cryptic and confusing. My next plan was the get a taco from Taco Bell to tide me over, since I needed to have the state inspection done on my car before heading home.  I got my hot, steamy taco and pulled into my favorite $3 car wash. It's my favorite because after you pay the small fee and come out looking shiny, you have access to the free vacuums and trash cans to detail the inside of the car. But the worker man told me that their computer had just shut down and they couldn't take any cars through at the moment. No! I wanted to eat my taco in the car wash. It was going to be magical. So, I went to the crappiest car wash ever, where their vacuums (the 2 that arent broken) smelled like a cow barn and the change machine was out of order. Then, I drove all the way back to about 8 minutes from my house where there is conveniently located an inspection shop, and was told that they cannot do inspections because they ran out of the green inspection stickers. The guys said, "Come back Thursday and I'll give you a discount." But my inspection expired TODAY. If I were to wait, I might get fined. Then I told him I am due to have a baby any day, so I don't want to push it off and risk it. His response, "Oh, you know how those due dates are..." DON'T remind me.

So I had to drive all the way back into town to Jiffy Lube for an inspection, where I realized I was out of gas. It was the trip that wouldn't end. I also tried to donate a box to Goodwill but first I wanted to get something out of it that had gotten thrown in by mistake, and the box was too heavy for my to maneuver, so I gave up, and there it sits in the back seat of my car. It was an intensely frustrating morning of driving around, turning into wrong parking lots, trying to make illegal U-turns and running my tank to E. And every issue, though slight, was exacerbated by the fact that there is no end in sight to this pregnancy. And I almost went a WHOLE month on that tank of gas, dagg-nabbitt.

Tomorrow, if I'm still pregnant, I plan to bathe my pooches so they smell good for baby sister, and I plan to go grocery shopping for things that Texan will feel comfortable preparing while I'm on the mend. I would've gotten the shopping done today on my outing, but I only like to do major shopping once per month for budget purposes, so im holding off for January. And, alas, this month hasn't quite ended yet. It looks like I won't have the last baby of 2013 or the first baby of 2014. But at this point, I will take her in a box, with a fox, wearing socks, or on an ox. I just don't want to be spherical any longer. "But you always wanted to be pregnant. You always wanted this," says Texan. He doesn't understand why something I wanted so badly can make me feel so dumpy. I want to be pregnant when it's necessary--when I'm forming a life. At this point, I don't feel a NEED to be pregnant anymore. She can survive happily on the outside now, and yet I'm still pregnant! This post has taken a sharp turn onto Downer Street. I'll wrap up with a photo. Here I am at 39 weeks and 4 days.

Don't I look exstatic? I can't smile because it shows how puffy my face is. The fluid-filled sacks that were once cheeks now swallow my eyes and give me a slight far-eastern appearance, which doesn't go we'll with my hair color. Also, don't mind that I'm wearing hooters shorts with my smock of a shirt. I had been wearing jeans--but that just didn't last long. 

Here it is, New Year's Eve. Texan has the day off tomorrow, so maybe we'll  find something fun to do.  The good Lord knows there's only one reason I want to be awake at midnight tonight and that is to be in a hospital bed. I'll settle for taking my Zyrtec and falling asleep by 10.

 Someone party for me and SJ.

Week 38

A television show--no matter how tantalizing the plot--can turn a brain to mush if not rationed properly. 

~Confucius 

But really, my sister and my mother encouraged me to watch ABC's Revenge series on Netflix, and I have been unable to think of doing much else, sometimes watching three episodes in a row once I wake up before realizing I need to drink something, brush my teeth, look in a mirror. My excuse is that I won't be able to do this once the baby comes. Also, I go through periods of lethargy followed by bursts of energy, so my lethargy is spent either sleeping or Revenging. But Wednesday, I grounded myself from the television and resolved to go to the library (to whom I now owe $35) and face my fear of being verbally lashed by one snooty librarian for not paying my fee. (That story, I will refrain from recounting). I needed to READ. I checked out one Heaven is for Real and two chick lot novels. They are my guilty pleasure. I figure since the last book I read was Great Expectations, I deserve some brain junk. I proceeded to read every last bit of Heaven is for Real in one day, two sittings. It is being made into a movie, which means I have to read it. Because that is my rule. If I see a movie, then find out it was a book, I feel like I have cheated literature. Wow, is this blog about my pregnancy? No, it's about me hanging on to and enjoying my last shreds of being a stay-at-home baby-maker with no real plans. Let's get on to the pregnancy stuff. 

On Tuesday I had my 38-week check. I waited (forever). It doesn't matter how long I actually waited because I have NEVER had to wait at my OB. Once, I was 20 minutes early to an appointment, and ended up leaving the office at the exact time that my appointment was supposed to begin. That's how fast this place usually is. But not on the 17th day of December. No. Every lady wanted to get their lady check in before the holiday. It sucked. My doctor concluded that I lost weight this week, and am now 1 cm dilated. He was also very impressed with my lack of swelling when he squeezed my ankle. My favorite part was the weight loss--not because I'm a psycho who thinks losing weight is good for my baby--I just haven't had a huge appetite lately. It excited me because he followed with, "you can eat lots at Christmas to make up for it." And, reader, he might as well have written me a prescription for unlimited refills of 350 mg of chow. I took his direct order directly to the old feed bag. Just kidding. My appetite isn't much. Today I ate a banana for breakfast and a piece of frozen pizza for lunch. Then We went to Texan's work Christmas party where I had a healthy serving of brisket (the best brisket) potato salad (which I have NEVER liked until pregnancy) and baked beans. I really enjoyed the party (and by party, I mean food). But seriously, it was nice to chat with Texan's boss' wife. She had 5 natural births, one of them at a hospital, four at home and one of them as a water-birth. So she filled me in on all the highs and lows. She was SUPER encouraging of my desire to forego the epidural. I told her it's just an idea, and my anxieties are building up about it. But she was very adamant that my body would tell me what I needed and I should trust it. 

We had a Chinese Christmas gift swap and here is what I won ( or rather, what Texan stole on my behalf).

It's a pink tool box that I said I would like for my sewing supplies. Yes, he got a HUGE laugh from all of his employees forchoosing  it. But it's what his lady wanted, so he got it. It's perfect! I used my turn to steal a box of assorted chocolates for him and we left with full bellies and a couple neat gifts. 

My favorite part about being 38 weeks along is how much Texan is enjoying me. That sounds so weird. But he loves my belly, and while he was taking my picture this week he said, "You look pretty. You look really pretty." Pretty sweet. I'm glad I haven't lost my touch. (Lick finger, place it on hip, hear sizzle). But seriously, it annoyed me at first when he referred to me as 'Momma' in his best Johnny Bravo voice. (To be funny). But it's become an endearing term of affection that he uses when he is loving me in that tender way that a husband loves the mother of his baby. 

My least favorite thing about this week? Skip ahead if you don't want a dose of TMI. I am so sore after my appointment. I am presently perched upon a gel ice pack that smells a bit like freezer burn and my dogs keep trying to lick it. But it is my only relief from the feeling that I took a horse-back ride with no saddle on a skeleton horse with a massive case of scoliosis. 

Here I am in all my round glory. Next time I will post another Q&A. My last, to sum up my final week of pregnancy. That is what I am declaring it, so be warned, baby. Your days of swimming in the Amniotic Sea are numbered. Mommy wants to see you in your footy pajamas 

Week 37

On Tuesday we had our 37 week checkup. Texan drove me for two reasons. Pre-ice storm, I mentioned that I kind of wanted him there because I was worried that the baby's head wouldn't be positioned in the, ya know, downward region. And then my doc would have to push on my stomach to move her. Not a pleasant thought. Then, when the ice storm hit, I knew I would need him to drive me in his 4-wheel drive just to make sure I didn't hit any icy patches. And guess who slipped and fell right into a bush while walking up to the doctor's office entrance? My Texan. "My elbow!" He cried. 

It only took me 3 days of (not) nagging to get Texan to tell his boss he would come in at 11 Tuesday morning so he could take me to my appointment. And how did he break the news to his very understanding boss? 

"Hey, is it okay if I come in after 10:30 tomorrow? My wife's doctor is checking her cervix and I have to take her." 

Wait!! In my writing workshops, my professors would have called this a misleading statement. It doesn't support the actual point of the story, and in fact, it brings up another distracting possibility that confuses the readers! He didn't have to take me to my appointment because I was having my cervix checked. That was just one part of the appointment that I wanted him there for, so he could hear the news of my vaginal progress (ew). That's all! Oh, but at least he called, right? 

I'm glad he came though, I needed help removing my boot socks from around my skinny jeans so I could put on the paper skirt. It actually took so long to remove my foot dressings that the doctor started to enter the room WHILE I was undressing. I've got to remember to wear slip-ons to the rest of my appointments. 

In "what's happening" news, I have been wondering what's happening to my body since about 4 this morning. Texan's boss sent him a text message which woke me up. I got up to read it to see if it was worth waking him up, but of course it was just something about an email he had forgotten to tell him about. Seriously?! I wish so hard that he knew what that text message really said. It said, "I know you have a 9-month pregnant wife who is trying to sleep as much as possible while being as fat as possible, but I have needs too. Like the need to tell you every thought as it comes to me in real time." Well, now that I was awake I noticed cramps like menstral  cramps. I was so uncomfortable, I got up and watched 3 episodes of Modern Family online until I felt sleepy enough to try again to fall asleep. By this point Texan was up becaise people from work were texting him (SERIOUSLY) so I told him about my pains, which by this point I assumed were from gas. But seriously, so painful. "Are you sure they're not contractions?" He asked. But they aren't coming and going. They're here to stay. Even as I write this I'm feeling them. Not cool. Maybe some yoga will help. I have been doing yoga to increase my breath and flexibility as I near labor, also I learned a dance in hopes of dancing the baby downward. Here I am at 37 weeks. I have only just awoken from a nap, so I cannot smile, otherwise my face will look as puffy as it really feels. We were on our way to bible study. Here's to this being one of the last few belly pics before a baby pic! 

Namaste

Week 36

Craving alert! Remember that one time I was craving cocoa-gravel, the slightly less well-known brand of cocoa pebbles cereal? Well, this week I bought a big receptacle of my favorite grown-up cereal, Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds. But, again, I really do prefer the off-brand that comes in a 36-oz bag, (maybe because there's no pesky box to fumble my fat, greasy sausage fingers about--I can just rip a bag open with my teeth). Uh, yeah. It's that bad. And with a winter storm warning for Thursday afternoon, I resolved to go to the grocery store and replenish my skim moo juice  supply before the impending storm. But Texan requested that I please not drive anywhere on Thursday, and since I was already not amped about donning my adorable-but-wont-fit-over-my-bump coat and braving the sub-freezing weather, I acquiesced. He promised to drive me to the store himself that evening. But, ALAS ALAS, he changed his mind about chauffeuring me after a long day of work, and my milk supply got so very low, that my brain was wracked with visions of lactose-less scenarios. Water in my 'honey clumps and granola with nut slivers'? Maybe...No! I must have milk. 

So Friday morning he went to the store and bought me a gallon and a half, and I had to stop myself from filling my largest mixing bowl with the sweet cereal goodness in celebration. But, it gets worse. I got a new craving late Thursday night. I was watching a show in which a man buys and consumes a giant slice of New York style pizza. And my hormones were all, "ya know what goes real good with pizza?" (My hormones have poor grammar). And then my brain was all, "ICE COLD COCA-COLA." So, I also requested a small vessel of caffeine-free coke on his grocery trip. To which he responded with a 2-lt bottle and a, TAH-dah! Oh, my self-control. But how sweet of him, right? I can't remember if Texan has ever gone to the store to buy things that we needed, let alone come home with a little guilty pleasure just for me. Glorious.

Also in sweet-as-tea Texan news, he painted my toenails while we watched the first installment of The Lord of the Rings this week. It went like this, "Texan, would you like to paint my toenails?"

"No. But would you like me to paint your toenails?" He said.

"Yes I would."

"I pick the color. Bright red. Red is sexy. And bring a towel and a q-tip and some polish remover for mistakes."  

"😍😍😍" I said.

Seriously he could only fain disinterest for a mili-sec before he remembered that painting my toes is not only enjoyable, but satisfying. Also glorious.

Today is the end of day four of not leaving the house except to visit my neighbors' cat, Ruby, and replenish her food and water supply. Today Texan escorted me to their house to keep me from slipping on the ice. Ruby doesn't like him, so we didn't stay long. Oh my gosh, I'm going out of my mind.

Here's something, church is cancelled tomorrow because the roads are that horrendous. Day 5 snowbound, no outside interaction.  Dear Mortimer, please send help immediately. Drool, lick window.

 I once took a professional personality test with a licensed counselor, and one of my trait readings was, "you become anxious and emotionally unstable at a lack of interaction with groups." Ok, I added the part about emotional instability, but you get the idea. 

I'm excited for my 37-wk checkup on Tuesday. But I'm nervous. Doc is going to make sure SJ's head is down and check to see if I'm dilated yet. I am praying that her head is down and that he doesn't have to push on my belly to reposition her. I'm guessing her head is down because what seems to be her little bum is constantly pressing against my right side with great gusto. I hope she has my flat bum. She will have such a hard time finding jeans otherwise...

Fact: I can't wear my wedding rings anymore, officially as of last week.

Fact: I am daily preparing my feet for labor. Why? So random, I know. But I want my feet to be soft and my nails to be on-point for that day. Sounds weird when I write it down. Harrumph.

Fact: I now eat every 3-4 hours now matter how big my last meal was. Famished by then.

Fact: I have never liked apples as much in my life as I do this week. Love em.

Fact: I have not worked out this week. But I thought about it with quite serious brow-furrowing.

And this is my new thing, going to bed just when I start to feel almost hungry in hopes that I can push off eating a bit longer. Seriously, as much as I enjoy eating, it's becoming a full-time occupation. Not complaining though. Oh, crap. Now I've waited too long and I have feed so I can find some rest. 

To the kitchen...

Week 35

This has been a week of firsts and milestones. Texan and I hosted our very first family Thanksgiving. But before I delve into those details, I'll mention that we also took our tour of the hospital where I'll be delivering. It's a beautiful women's hospital that is so quiet and well-decorated, that it seems more like a hotel than a hospital. I found out that all of the bathing and stamping and other post-birth things that are done to baby are done right there in the delivery room, so I will get to see her the whole time. Really, that was my biggest concern. I've heard stories of women whose baby was taken away for a couple hours right after being born and that just sounds kind of miserable to me after waiting this long. Having the tour made me very at ease and even more excited to get this show on the road. I finally have a picture in my head of where everything will be taking place. Oh, hello Reality. Go ahead and settle in.

As for our Thanksgiving, There was a 20-lb turkey (made, injected with butter, and basted by me), two kinds of potatoes, 3 pies, green been casserole, a relish platter (that's basically a giant platter of pickles requested by yours truly, the pregnant one), corn pudding (a personal fave), gravy, cranberry sauce, cookies, coffee and football! We don't have a ton of room in our little home but we enjoyed ourselves by taking a walk while we waited for the Turkey to finish roasting. The weather was perfectly brisk, so we were able to spend most of the day with the door open to cool off the house from all the oven and roaster heat that got worked up between having 9 bodies in the house. My sister and her husband and two kiddos were in attendance (with the most delicious chocolate-peanut butter pie anyone has every tasted) and our friend from church who had to work a half-day was able to make it just in time from work to enjoy the meal. Here is my turkey and one of the plate setups.

Black Friday it was just my parents and I. Texan had to work, and my sister's hubby spent the day being handy around their house. We waited until about 11 am to go shopping, so we missed the crowds (except at Chik-Fil-A! That place was a mad house). I scored some baby swag--including a beautiful baby book to start recording her milestones. So far, I have added our pregnancy announcement and an appointment card with my OBGYN's name and info on it. Thanks, Mom and Dad! I was so sad to see my parents go that afternoon because I know I won't see them again until Christmas time, most likely. But at least I could look forward to a fun weekend spending gift cards and being chauffeured around by Texan, right? Yeah, he was my driver on Saturday as I made some exchanges and bought some essentials including a changing-table pad and a boogie straw. We had lunch at Jason's Deli then went home to have our friends over for what we call a picnic and games. (It's a picnic because they bring their own dinner, and we eat our T-day leftovers but it's fun because we're together!) We played an awesome card game which I will be teaching to my parents soon so I can improve.

That night around midnight we climbed into bed and Texan was fast asleep in minutes. I, on the other hand, got out my iPad and started to surf around on Facebook where I noticed that my grandpa was in the hospital for his heart. There was a sweet picture of him sitting up on the edge of his bed, smiling, surrounded by my younger cousins there for a visit. I made a mental note to call my grandma the next day after church and add my grandpa to our prayer request list in Sunday School. My parents recently bought plane tickets for them to come out to Texas for Christmas, and I've been hoping that maybe baby SJ will come early enough for them to meet her. But at 7:30, my phone rang and I was awoken to see that it was my mom calling. When I answered she didn't instantly say, "Oh! Did I wake you up?" So I knew she wasn't calling for something trivial. But I wasn't awake enough to weigh the possibilities, really. She simply said, "Cara, it's Mom."

"I know...what's up?" I asked.

"Boo, Grandpa died."

She went on with a few details of when and why, and ended by saying, "Just lay down and let your husband put his arms around you and have a good cry. That's what I did this morning."

And that's exactly what I did. We disconnected and I lay there crying to Texan, telling him the details between my quiet sobs and letting him rock and 'shh' me sweetly. For the first time in my life, someone close to me has gone to Heaven, and the thought of that strange new feeling had my mind reeling. As I stopped crying and began to quiet down again, Texan said, "Remember when we took your grandparents out to their favorite seafood restaurant and I got a pearl in my oyster?" We lay there in our bed and laughed about how excited my grandpa was over that tiny little pearl. It was the size of the tiny ball in  a ball-point pen. But it was awesome, and grandpa encouraged me to shine it up and save it forever. But it was so small, I have no idea where it ended up. It was impossible to keep track of.

This morning made me so thankful for my husband's ability to support and comfort me without saying things that seem like a waste of breath. He let me be sad. The hardest part, really, was praise and worship at church this morning. The first song we sang was "Oh come, all ye faithful," and  I  couldn't stop the tears. My grandpa loved Christmas--especially Christmas baking. His homemade fudge was so sweet I needed a glass of milk following each bite. But I've been eating it my whole life. I even remember in elementary school when my grandparents visited for Christmas, he packed my lunch on the last day before Christmas vacation started. I sat at lunch with sandwich bag full of peanut butter fudge wondering if I could eat it all without getting a tummy ache. And that day after school, he picked me up in his GMC pickup truck. It was the most exciting and memorable day simply because he was there. He later started making chocolate-mint fudge just for me as I got older and developed a taste for it. He always made me a nut-free batch of all of his holiday goodies, but teased me that everything was full of nuts. I can't believe I'm writing this. One more Christmas with him in the kitchen hunched over the counter, leaning his head over my shoulder and asking for a kiss still wouldn't have been enough to heal my heart, I know. One comfort I find is in the movements in my tummy. My sweet girl's hiccups and elbow jabs remind me that precious life goes on.  She wouldn't have noticed if I had sat around sobbing all day, I know. But going to church, seeing my friends, serving my husband and curling up on the couch in the light of our Christmas tree are all things that I can do to make this a day to remember my beloved Yiya. I haven't cried my last tear over his passing. I haven't written my last thought down to keep his memory alive in my mind. And I will always tell my daughter how much she would have loved Yiya and how she would have learned to like his teasing. Teasing was such a huge part of who he was. His heart was that huge for his family. He had to find a way to show us affection at all times--and he did that by teasing. But when he was picking and poking fun at us, he was really saying, "I love you. You're my favorites."
 In preggers news:
I have my 35-week checkup on Tuesday where I'll be tested for Beta Strep and tell my doctor how SJ has had hiccups every day at least once a day for the past 3 days. What's up with that? Three times today! I'm sure he'll say it's nothing. But, I am going to ask anyway. I am going to start doing yoga again this week. I'm writing that so that I will be forced to give you an update on it next time. I have stopped working out due to pain in my hips and pelvis. My lower back is also very sore after so much as walking around a store for an hour. So, I'm going to start slowly. I just don't want to lose all the progress I have made in strengthening my body for labor. On a positive note, though, I am sleeping like a baby. I am getting a ton of sleep and soaking up every bit of rest I can before baby. In fact, that's what I'm going to do this very moment.

Good night, dear readers.