What's in a date?

My due date is May 14th, but Mr. P and I had our own three target days to have this baby.

5/4/09 — I like this one because Kiddle's birthday is 04/05/06 (and isn't that a cool birthday?). 4/5 and 5/4 have some nice synergy. And 5+4=9. Which must be a postive thing, numerologically, right?

5/6/09 — We'd lose the mathematical quirk with this one, but it would be easy to remember birthdays. Kiddle on 4/5 and Extra Little on 5/6.

5/7/09 — As my almost-sister-in-law pointed out ... "consecutive odd number dates like this will only happen five times this century!" But it's almost 3pm already, so it's not looking good.

Oh well. A boring old regular birth date it is!

Extra Little Update

My one zillionth prenatal appointment this morning.

I like that I lost three pounds. I like that she told me I could stop testing my blood sugar four times a day; instead, just twice a day. I don't like that I'm still 1cm dilated (same as last week). But ... I am 50% effaced, so that's some progress. She doesn't want me to go too far past my due date, so we've scheduled a c-section for Saturday, May 16th. That gives me nine more days to get this kid out. After that, he coming out — ready or not.

Tomorrow ... more castor oil.
Saturday ... more acupuncture.
Rinse and repeat.

Things on my To Do list ...

... when I thought I might be going into labor this afternoon:

• remove nail polish
• pack hospital bag
• finish baby laundry
• put away clean laundry
• four more loads of laundry
• clean up kitchen
• pick up house
• clean bathroom
• sheets on guest bed
• stuff to attic
• baby paperwork
• finish birth plan
• pay bills
• wash towels
• update "the care & feeding of Kiddle"
• go through mail

Things left on my To Do list:

• pack bag
• update "the care & feeding of Kiddle"
• go through mail
• fold two loads of laundry

Possible labor is a GREAT motivator. Especially for my lazy ass, apparently.

Oh my god ...

down to single digits on the Baby Countdown. (Although I'm actually hoping for 1 or 2 days. Not 9.) Gotta get back to doing laundry.

Must. Pack. Hospital. Bag.

Pronto.

Uh oh.

Just got back from an ultrasound where Extra Little's CURRENT size was estimated to be 8.5 pounds. Yikes! That's the same size Kiddle was when he was born and I couldn't get him out. So I definitely might be looking at another c-section. I really don't want to go through labor only to end up with major surgery again.

Here's my big dilemma. My parents just left yesterday for vacation in Florida, returning to Oklahoma on May 10th. My mom is scheduled to come up here on May 12th and my due date is May 14th. Based on a couple of conversations with my sister, I had pretty much decided not to tell them when I went into labor, but just to call after the baby arrived. My mom is already more excited/stressed about my impending delivery than anyone else — including me — so if I call too early ... vacation OVER. Not only for my dad, but also for the other couples with them. She's just too high-strung to be relaxed (and silent) about this.

But if I schedule a c-section? Ay yi yi. Not sure what to do. I still think my instinct is just to let them know after it's all over. I don't need her to change her travel plans, so why create drama any earlier than needed?

Right?

I'm going to burn in hell for this, aren't I?

Am I in Oklahoma?

Because it sure seems like it. Sunday was 92 degrees. Monday was 89. Yesterday was 94 ... and today the high is supposed to be 58. That sure sounds an awful lot like Oklahoma weather to me. Of course, if you crammed those extremes into one afternoon, that would be even more familiar.

Seriously, weather gods, it's freakin' APRIL! In New Jersey, no less. Sunday we filled up the kiddie pool. Yesterday we spent the afternoon at my neighbor's house in the sprinkler. I was so glad I already bought some shorts for Kiddle. And I had been really quite pleased that, once again, I would avoid being pregnant in the summer. Or so I thought.

I did handle the heat much better than I thought I would, though. When I was pregnant with Kiddle, I remember swelling up a bit when the weather got a little warmer in March and being so thankful my due date was in April. So I really expected the worst with these extreme temps this week. But no swelling, no other issues. Yay!

Hopefully that's it with the crazy weather — for the next couple of weeks at least.

Heartbroken

This morning I heard the devastating news that a friend's three-month-old baby boy died this weekend.

I guess it's not entirely accurate to say that Shana is a friend since we've never met. But after finding her blog in a roundabout way, I've followed along and feel oddly connected to her. You see, as we figured out through a string of emails, not only are we both from Oklahoma City and pregnant at the "advanced maternal age" of 39, we graduated from neighboring high schools the same year and both had a long-term boyfriend from the same group of guys (although at slightly different times so we're not sure if we ever actually crossed paths). The wild wide web is a small little world, isn't it?

Thalon was born at the end of December, destined to be the hapless younger brother of two wildly opinionated older sisters. I checked in on her site this morning and was shocked to see that Thalon was in the hospital and seemingly not expected to make it. I frantically scanned through all the comments of support and prayer, sobbing uncontrollably and trying to glean any info I could on his condition, when I realized he had died. I don't know the details of what happened, although I think I can guess. Whatever happened, it's every parent's worst nightmare. Three months old. Goddamn it.

This is the second friend of mine who's lost a new baby in the last year. The first had serious heart issues, so while the news was devastating, it wasn't totally unexpected. This one was totally out of the blue and, at eight months pregnant, has left me reeling. So many things can go wrong so quickly with these fragile little bodies and souls given to our care. I don't want to be that crazy parent hovering over my child 24 hours a day — and I still won't be, it's just not in my nature — yet that precious life can be snatched from you in a split second. It simply isn't fair.

I've been a basket case all day. And stressing out poor Kiddle as well. While he was eating lunch, I saw Shana's post confirming that Thalon had died and returned to the table with tears streaming down my face. He looked at me and said, "Mama crying? Whas de matter, Mommy?" I said, "Mommy's sad but I'm ok. Don't worry. I'm ok." He climbed up in my lap and stared at me with the saddest little frown on his face and touched my face. Then two fat tears rolled down his cheeks which, of course, made me cry even harder. What a sweet little soul.

As for me, I'd been feeling really odd all day. Just kind of off. My joints felt tight and I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and throughout my body. I couldn't separate what I was feeling physically from my anxiety and upset about Thalon, and since we're keeping an eye out for preeclampsia with this pregnancy, I was worried my blood pressure was spiking — and I knew I was probably making it worse by stressing out over it. I finally gave in and headed up to my doctor's office to get checked out (I know ... that's so unlike me). They were lovely and wonderful as always, and ended up doing the full exam that I was scheduled for on Thursday. It turns out my blood pressure was up a bit, but once I heard it wasn't terrible, I calmed down and it had dropped back down to normal before I left. I'm so glad I went against my basic I'm-sure-it's-fine nature though. I would have really worked myself up into a tizzy and not slept a wink tonight. Now I can worry about Shana, Kiddle and this kid-to-be with a little more peace of mind.

I'm off to make sure Kiddle is still breathing. Please keep Shana and her family in your thoughts.

Three Years Ago Today: Kiddle's BIRTHday!

Wednesday. It's well after midnight and this kid is NOT coming out.

I'd been pushing since 9:00. He definitely had the cool 04/05/06 birthday at this point, but you know what would be even cooler? If he was born at 1:23 on 4/5/06. Something to aim for ... and miss, as we blew right past the time.

Finally, it was decision time. Keep going or c-section? We decided it was best just to get the kid out. He obviously wasn't going to cooperate, even after almost six hours of pushing. I was amazed at how quickly things moved once we made the decision. And at 3:24 am, Kiddle arrived into the world. All 8 1/2 pounds of him.

Happy birthday, little one!

Snow in April, just for your birthday.

And, finally, after 3 1/2 days of jaundice and low blood sugar for him, and hormonal crying jags and super swollen feet for me ... we were on our way home.

And those boxes of work stuff I shipped home to organize? They're still in my attic, untouched and, since no one came looking for the stuff, apparently unnecessary.

Three Years Ago Today: April 4th

Tuesday. The induction is underway.

We met Elizabeth at the hospital the night before. To keep the TMI level down, I'll just say the first step is a procedure to help get my pregnant parts ready to go. Fortunately it doesn't involve me doing anything; just hanging out and trying to get some sleep. Although I did start having some small contractions early in the morning, so after that, sleep was hard to come by.

I should take a moment here to say how wonderful it was working with my midwives — Barbara and Elizabeth. (An extra side note: Barbara is originally from OKC and attended Putnam City before West or North existed.) One of the main reasons I chose to go that route instead of an obstetrician was the personal care you receive throughout the labor process. And their relationship with the hospital staff came into play from the very beginning for me: I was not going to get along with my nurse. Mrs. Green.

Ah, Mrs. Green. If only I knew your first name. Old school, old school, old school. Our first clash was seconds after we walked into my room and she couldn't understand why I wanted to wear my own gown instead of a hospital gown. (Do you realize how long I could be here before I have this baby, Mrs. Green?) Then she whips out a needle to stick an IV in my arm and I had the NERVE to question her. (Barbara had specifically told me I didn't need an IV through this first stage. And once you have that IV your mobility is much more restricted.) Through gritted teeth, she agreed to hold off until Elizabeth arrived. And, of course, no IV was confirmed once she got there. Thankfully, Elizabeth was able to switch me to a different nurse. Thank you, sweet Elizabeth. I would have had a needle in my arm all night and my ass hanging out if I'd been with an OB instead of a midwife.

So other than some minor contractions, not much was happening. I was able to take a shower (no IV, thankyouverymuch) and have a bit of breakfast before the real induction started -- a pitocin drip around 10:00 that morning. But that pitocin is some powerful stuff. Over the course of the morning and early afternoon, my contractions were getting incredibly painful. I kept asking Elizabeth, "If I was laboring at home would you have sent me to the hospital yet?" And she kept answering, "No, not yet." Sweet Jesus!

My original plan had been to use the birthing center at the hospital — which means no epidural. Insanely, or perhaps ignorantly, enough I still wanted to see if I could make it through the birth drug-free. And I lasted a good long while. Even Elizabeth seemed impressed. But, I'll tell you, getting induced HURTS. Pitocin is some nasty stuff. And it got even worse after she manually broke my water. By 5:00 I couldn't take it anymore. We did one more check and found that I was still only dilated to 5cm. Bring on the drugs! NOW! And by 5:30 I was in heaven.

Epidurals are amazing. I still wish I could have avoided it, but I couldn't believe the difference. I went from incredible agony to bliss in moments. I even slept for a bit. And, around 9:00, Barbara had arrived to relieve Elizabeth, I was FINALLY dilated to 10cm, so we decided I could start pushing.

Mr. P and I had joked when we arrived at the hospital the night before that it was too bad I'd have the baby on April 4th, instead of April 5th ... it would be much cooler for his birthday to be 04-05-06.

Little did we know.

Three Years Ago Today: April 3rd

Monday. Felt much, much better after the stomach flu from hell over the weekend. And due back in the city once again for a non-stress test at the hospital.

When I got pregnant, I made the decision to work with my midwives and deliver in the city, even though I live in New Jersey. It made the most sense really, since I spent most of my time in town anyway and I was just as likely to go into labor at the office as at home. And if I was at home, without traffic we could easily make it to the hospital in half an hour. (Be sure to keep "without traffic" in mind as I continue.)

Potential preeclampsia was still a concern, but I'd held it together fairly well and there I was: two weeks to go. I left that morning for the hospital in plenty of time to account for the usual mid-morning traffic. Except it turned out to be an unusual day. TWO AND A HALF HOURS to get to the west side of Manhattan. TWO AND A HALF HOURS!! I was over an hour late to my appointment and so stressed out by the time I got there you could have popped me with a fork.

TRIP COUNT: 4

I finally get in for my ultrasound (looks good), my urine test (4+ ... that's really bad), but guess what? My blood pressure is up. IMAGINE THAT? I just spent two hours sitting in traffic on the West Side Highway. Then the doctor on call that day says to me, "Since your blood pressure is high, I think we'll just admit you now and induce you tonight."

Excuse me?

Can I go home first? Can I collect my husband first — who's in Connecticut for a meeting, by the way — so we don't end up with two cars in the city? Can I eat first? Can I pack a bag first? Can I take a shower first? AM I IN IMMINENT DANGER OF EXPLODING? If the answer is no, I'm NOT checking into the hospital at this exact moment.

I refused to do anything without talking to my midwife. And I should probably mention here that I'm sobbing hysterically and uncontrollably by this point. So I sob through a phone call to my midwives' office. And I sob through a phone call to Mr. P, scaring the bejeezus out of him. (Poor thing had literally just pulled into the parking lot for his meeting. Fortunately the guy he was meeting with happened to be a friend from college and was perfectly understanding when Mr. P said, "Hey. Just outside your door ... but I have to leave.")

As it turned out, one of my midwives was already at the hospital, so I stood outside the prenatal reception area waiting for her — still sobbing hysterically and uncontrollably. I can only imagine what all the other pregnant women were thinking. I tried to maintain my distance and cry as quietly as I could so I wouldn't scare anyone to death.

Elizabeth, the voice of reason, arrived and said, "Yes, let's go ahead and get that baby out. But of course you can go home, sweetie. Dr. Rosen has the bedside manner of a brick. Find your husband, eat, take a shower, get yourself together and come back tonight around 6:00." Thank you, sweet Elizabeth. And fuck you, Dr. Rosen.

By that point, I had calmed down enough to drive home. And so I went. I met up with Mr. P, ate a cheeseburger, took a shower, shaved my legs, packed a bag and headed back into the city.

To have a baby. Oh Lord!

TRIP COUNT: 5

Our "police escort" back into the city. Or so we said, anyway, as we fell in behind a long caravan of Homeland Security cars heading into the Lincoln Tunnel.

Three Years Ago Today: April 1st

Saturday. Just over two weeks until my due date.

I got up that morning feeling like a truck had run over me. I had a splitting headache. I was nauseous. And my entire abdomen was cramping in wave after excruciating wave. Surely this couldn't be labor, could it? It just didn't feel right. Then Mr. P, who had been out all night at a job site, came home. Feeling the exact same way.

Aha! Stomach flu.

I knew I should touch base with my midwife. She was at the hospital with another client and wanted me to come in just to get checked out, so we headed into Manhattan. Along the way we stopped for some orange juice, because I hadn't eaten that day and I'd heard horror stories about being urged into giving birth early because of blood counts that could have been fixed with a little food. I started drinking the juice just after we came out of the Lincoln Tunnel and by the time we pulled up to the hospital at 58th & 10th, I was barfing into a plastic bag.

Definitely the stomach flu.

TRIP COUNT: 3

Up in the maternity triage, the baby and all my vitals checked out fine, thank goodness. So they simply hooked me up to an IV for a couple of hours to make sure I didn't get dehydrated. Boy, IVs can do wonders! I felt significantly better by the time we left there. We stocked up on Gatorade and ginger ale and spent the rest of the weekend recovering.

But don't forget about poor Mr. P. He was suffering, too, and had been awake all night. But since he wasn't pregnant ... no IV for you, sir! He spent the two hours feeling like total hell and trying to sleep on the cold, hard floor next to my bed in the tiny, tiny triage bay. The next day I was all perky and raring to go, while he still wanted to curl into a ball and die.

Moral of the story? It's simple. Don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your due date. And don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your wife's due date. Neither of us recommend it.

The Story of Thomas's Birth, or How Many Prenatal Trips Can I Take into Manhattan in One Week?

In honor of Thomas's upcoming birthday, and since childbirth is on my mind and bladder, I thought I'd write down all the thrilling, and not so thrilling, details of his birth. Especially before I forget the details or start confusing them with this next kid. TMI alert! I'll apologize now for any overshare in the next few posts.

I'd had a pretty easy pregnancy. No major issues, no major cravings or aversions, not very hormonal and still moving around well. Until I had five weeks to go; then I started to fall apart. I hadn't gained a lot of weight so far, maybe 10 or 12 pounds. Then I showed up for my 35 week appointment and had gained four pounds in two weeks. Yikes. Retaining water much? From that point on, swelling definitely became more of an issue. I also started showing protein in my urine. Those are two of the indicators for preeclampsia (a serious blood pressure condition during pregnancy), but since my blood pressure was still ok, I wasn't labelled as such. Absolutely something to keep a close eye on, and the only way to solve it is to deliver the baby. Not the best option when you're still four or five weeks out from your due date.

Because of these concerns, I'd started working from home that week. But on Thursday, I had my 37 week appointment, so I also went to the office for a while — really just to pack up and ship out all the piles and piles of papers I had everywhere, so I could get organized while hanging out at home the next couple of weeks. (Or so I thought. The boxes were delivered to me on Monday just as I was leaving to go be induced.) At my appointment, my protein level was higher than it had been, so we scheduled a non-stress test at the hospital for Monday, just to make sure the baby was doing ok.

TRIP COUNT: 1

By this time, the baby appeared to be rather large. And since I had a major fear of having a 10 pound baby, preeclampsia was looming and I was into my 38th week (and past the point of having a preemie), we all agreed it was best if I could get this kid out sooner, rather than later. I had decided to try some acupuncture. Two of my good friends had been successful with acupuncture when overdue; both went into labor within 24 hours. I certainly wasn't expecting those kind of results. After all it was still two weeks before my due date, but was hopeful it could help get things moving. My first appointment was on Friday, so I headed back into the city once again.

TRIP COUNT: 2

Who's "Extra Little"?

I guess I should explain.

When Kiddle was an infant, I usually referred to him as Little Kid (much to Mr. P's annoyance because he thought it sounded like I didn't know Kiddle's name — until he started calling him Little Kid, too). Eventually Little Kid was shortened to just Little, which later evolved into Kiddle. We don't use those nicknames much anymore, but at one point we did become a bit concerned he might be Little for the rest of his life. I mean, who wants to be known as Little at 40?

Anyway, I've been struggling with what I should call this new kid in my musings here. And Extra Little seems fitting since he'll be my second, extra kiddo. So Extra Little it is ... at least until he shows up and something else seems to fit better.

Extra Little Update

With Kiddle in preschool two mornings a week, I finally had some kid-free "me" time. Or so I thought. Nope. Not lately anyway, because it seems all I do with my Tuesday and Thursday mornings is go for prenatal-related appointments. Last Thursday was a follow-up at the diabetes center. This Thursday is a regular visit to the OB. And today's thrilling appointment was for an ultrasound and a consult with the perinatalist. The ultrasound to check the size of the baby and the consult because apparently it isn't enough to have my OB and nutritionist following my gestational diabetes. I need to add more people to this kid's entourage.

But the report was good so I'll try to refrain from further complaint. Extra Little's estimated size is four pounds, four ounces, which is on target for 32 weeks. But it seems, however, they failed to mention that I'M HAVING A JACK-O-LANTERN instead of a baby:



Yikes! He must take after Mr. P's side of the family.

Are you calling me fat?

Two more months to go and I definitely have moments when I feel as big as a house already ... mostly when I see my naked belly in the mirror. But I did feel a little better today when I picked Kiddle up from school.

His teacher saw me and said, "Wow, you're really popping out now." (Ok, so maybe it didn't start off so well.) "You've got four months left?"

"No, just two."

"Only two? Wow! You look really great!"

I'll take it where I can get it.

And just how pregnant am I?

Good question.

My mom asked me a while back how many weeks I was. No clue. And of course she said, "You would have known exactly how many weeks you were with Kiddle." Well, duh, mom. It was my first pregnancy and I had it written down on a calendar right in front of me at my desk. Be thankful this is my second pregnancy and I'm not asking you to cancel your trip to Florida that covers my due date.

So how many weeks am I? I know I was 20 weeks on Christmas day, so that means I'm ... hang on ... 28 weeks. Twelve to go.

Yikes. That seems really soon and really far away.

TMI Alert: OB Update

I survived yesterday's three-hour glucose test without passing out or falling asleep. When I took the test while pregnant with Kiddle, desperate for a quick hit of protein, I stopped by McDonald's (perhaps that makes my quest protein-like?) on the way back to the subway to get a double cheeseburger. And, of course, it was one of those times it takes at least 10 minutes to get your food. I was about to collapse into a pile of goo as I clung to the counter, willing them to put that burger in my hands. How hard is it to make a double cheeseburger? I did learn a lesson from that experience and took a peanut butter sandwich with me for yesterday's test.

I also found out that my sugar level wasn't sky high -- 144, and the cut-off is 140. So that was good news and an indication that I might make it through this test without being labeled as diabetic.

The frustrating part of the visit was that the protein level in my urine sample was too high. Way too high. No need to panic yet, but it definitely worries me because that was one of the problems I had while pregnant with Kiddle -- but much later in the pregnancy. Protein in your urine is one of the indicators of preeclampsia. But it must accompany high blood pressure, which I don't have. Yet. The only solution for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby. Not a big deal if you're past 37 weeks, but I've got quite a ways to go before delivery is an option.

However -- hopefully the protein is a sign of something else. Like an asymptomatic UTI. So the doctor is sending off more urine for analysis and took more blood to run some other tests. And I have to do a 24-hour urine collection test this weekend. (So don't drink out of the big red jug in the fridge please!)

And, to top it all off, I have a sinus infection. Very annoying; haven't had one in years and years. I started a round of antibiotics last night, so I'm just waiting for that to kick in and get rid of the pain and pressure on the left side of my face. The good news is that if I do have a UTI, the antibiotics will take care of that too.

Which reminds me ... I'm two hours late taking my pill. Gotta go!

Edited to add: I also found out that I was already exposed to fifth disease at some point, so I'm immune. Whew! One less thing to worry about.

I failed ...

... my one-hour glucose test. Ugh.

I didn't pass it when pregnant with Kiddle either. That time I got through the long version ok, but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if I end up on the gestational diabetes route this time. Annoying, but at least it would force me to clean up my diet. I've been on a serious sugar binge the last month or so.

So it's the three-hour, multiple-blood-samples version for me this Friday (which, by the way, is the first of my every-two-weeks appointments). Good thing the phlebotomist at my OB's office rocks!

I plead the fifth.

Kiddle might have fifth disease.

His preschool teacher brought it up today when I picked him up. She became concerned because his cheeks got really red at one point today (major symptom), she heard that a kid in another class has it, and she knows I'm pregnant.

I just don't remember this being around when I was a kid (and neither does my mom), but what do I know? So here's what I learned today:

• Also called "slapped cheek" disease because they get bright red cheeks.
• Can develop a rash on the rest of the body too.
• Usually starts as what seems like a mild cold: runny nose, low-grade fever.
• Only contagious during the "cold" period. When the rash shows up, they're no longer contagious.
• Once you've had it, you're immune to it.

Kiddle had a fresh runny nose start almost two weeks ago. He might have had a slight fever one morning, but I never could get a good thermometer read and one round of Motrin knocked it out, if it was really there at all. He definitely had some serious red cheeks and redness around the mouth starting last Monday, but he always has rosy cheeks so I didn't really think much of it. I just thought they were extra chapped from all the snot he was smearing all over his face. No rash on his body (that I noticed anyway, but that's a whole other bad-mom post). So at this point it's really impossible to tell if he's had it since his symptoms aren't blatant, unless we did blood work ... and I'm not going down that path! For an extra dash of irony, we were at the pediatrician last Monday (the first day of his red cheeks) for other reasons, and apparently it didn't cross her mind either.

But here's the kicker. You DON'T want to get it if you're pregnant. If you transmit it to your baby, especially during the first half of your pregnancy, it can cause serious anemia and be fatal for the baby. Yikes! But, there's about a 50% chance I'm already immune to it and, since I'm at six months, it's less of a worry for the baby. My OB did have me come in today for blood work, just to see what's going on. They can tell if I'm already immune or if I've been recently exposed, so I'll just have to wait for the test to come back.

Oh, the joys of childhood illnesses! I do wish I had a good picture of his neon cheeks last week. You would all be horrified. In hindsight, maybe I should have been too.

The Final 100 Days.

Of this pregnancy. Or, hopefully, the Final 90 Days if I get my wish of May 4th instead of May 14th.

And sometime in the last week I've crossed the line from mostly-forgetting-that-I'm-pregnant over to always-knowing-that-I'm-pregnant. And that could have something to do with the fact that I think I've finally gained some weight. (Not for lack of trying.) I've got a doctor's appointment on Thursday (glucose test ... yuck) and I think it might be a bit scary. The couple of pounds I'd gained were lost during the Great Barf-Off of 2009, but that was probably a bit of a false loss. All I know is I'm avoiding the scale until then.

I've got major urge to buy new baby things, too. I keep reminding myself that Kiddle had WAY TOO MUCH STUFF, but it's hard. A big goal for this week is to get out the 0-3 and 3-6 month stuff and go through it, so I can either nip this urge in the bud or give myself permission to get a few things. (Although I've already given in a bit. Don't tell anyone.)