Breeder Beware

Happy to be here.  I saw my ob today. I gained five pounds in the last four weeks.  Ahem.  I blame Wegmans chocolate cream pie. NO REGRETS.  She was not unhappy with my weight so neither am I. 

Peter had a rocking tantrum when I tried to get him into the exam room.  And another when I tried to get him into his car seat to go home.  Being this pregnant and wrassling a toddler is...right. 

My appointments have switched to every two weeks so I go back December 12.  I also get the glucose tolerance test that day.  My sister is coming to sleep over the night before and will stay home with Peter so I can go get drunk off glucose without having to chase Peter.  THANK YOU.  I am kind of annoyed that I have to take the one hour test.  Why can't I just take the four hour and be done with it?  I would rather feel like shit just once and find a sitter for Peter just once than have to do it twice.  Because does anyone SERIOUSLY think I am not getting GD? 

I got all the stuff for the GD diet today.  Nuts, cheese, eggs to hard boil, I already had herbal tea.  I figure I had better get started since my blood sugar is getting to high normal.  My blood pressure was a little high today, but that could have been because of all the TODDLER TANTRUMS .  Jesus Wept. 

I talked to my ob about all things I have been worrying wondering about.
Q.  Do I have any chance of a vaginal delivery? Because I am so afraid of recovering from a c-section with two children to care for.
A. Well, if you want to try we can try.  But I will send in the paperwork for a scheduled c-section anyhow but put it right around your due date.  There is just no way to know what will happen. 
Q. Should we stop having sex because of the bleeding?
A. Only if you want to stop.  It's just because of how sensitive your cervix is. So if you have more sex, you will probably have more bleeding.
Q.  If I do go into labor, is it going to be faster because this is my second baby?
A.  NOPE.  It all depends on your first labor, and since you nevereverever dilated at ALL, this would be just like a first labor. 

I love my ob.  I saw her face when I said how afraid I was of trying to recover from a c-section while nursing and having Peter running around and I know she knows it would suck dirty goat balls.  So if there is any way to get #2 out the front door and not the escape hatch, she will try it.  On the other hand, at least if I don't go into labor I will not have 26 hours of torture and THEN major abdominal surgery.  And I will get a pretty baby instead of a mushed up one.  So what if that is reaching for the thinnest silver lining ever?  I have seen some pretty jacked up vag babies, with their noses all squished over.  And I will get super delicious drugs.  And what is most important is a healthy baby and a healthy me.  But I told Mr. that I want to try EVERY GODDAMN THING we can to start my labor.  I asked him tonight if he would mind doing it when I was nine months pregnant and he said we could try.  I am pretty sure neither of us will be interested in sex at that point, but if it means a natural delivery then we are going to try. 

Dear GD,

While you suck balls and I love cookies, I can TOTALLY HANDLE YOU. 

not EVEN scared,
celia

Dear High Blood Pressure,

You suck balls too, and I can't do anything about you and you are scary.  Soooooo please pass me by.   You will TOTALLY FUCK UP my plans for jump starting labor. 

super scared of you,
celia

Soooo Thanksgiving went ok.  If I were going to lay out the highlights( low lights?), I'd say Mr.'s cousin saying in front of 20+ people "I know what yoooooooooooou like to do in Juuuuuuuune" was obviously awesome.  Our son Peter was born in March and this baby is due 11 days before Peter's 2nd birthday.  So two March babies.  Yes, you are right.  my husband and I had sex in June at least twice.  Congratulations on your incredible grasp of the calendar.  The belly rubbers were there too.  I HATE YOU BELLY TOUCHERS.  STOP TOUCHING ME.  IF YOU WAIT, YOU CAN TOUCH THE ACTUAL BABY AND NOT ME. And what do you say to them?  Personally while I would like to be  the Julia Sugarbaker with a quick response and a pimp slap type, I actually just freeze up.  Sooooo here is my opinion, IF YOU DID NOT HELP PUT THE BABY IN THERE AND YOU ARE NOT HELPING GET THE BABY OUT OF THERE, DO NOT RUB THE PREGNANT WOMAN.  Do I sound irritable?  I guess it is because I had all this irritation at the random rubbing people( ok we are related on my husband's side but that does not mean you get to rub me like a goddamn magic lamp)that I could not do anything with, so I have just been carrying it around with me. 

And the Baby Police were there to tell me that I have to be careful or I will end up on bed rest again.  Thanks.  I have had three doctors tell me there is no way to avoid bed rest and that it will happen or it won't, but clearly because you were a secretary at an obstetrician's office I will ignore them and listen to you. 

Other than that, it was a nice day.  Stuffing, family, getting stuffed with family.  Nice. The next day I took Peter up to my sister's and that was nice too. Especially the pie. If you have not tried Wegman's chocolate cream pie, you need to.  BECAUSE IT IS AMAZEBALLS.  My sister is a trooper and does not blink when Peter carries black playdoh around her very pink house.  Personally, I would not let him do that but she is fine with it.  She spoils him terribly.  But that is ok, everyone needs someone who thinks they can do no wrong and that cookies are just as important as vegetables and buys them totally frivolous crap just because.  And so Peter has his Auntie.

We let Peter watch the Macy's parade but I don't think I will let him watch next year.  It was not as awesome as I remembered. 

Then it was today.  We picked up the Christmas pictures and Peter had a meltdown in the mall because this little boy had a truck and ALL TRUCKS ARE HIS.

I was exhausted and bitchy crabby, for most of today.  This morning we shared the marital embrace.

Ahem.  Sorry, I am just saying because then later on I had some spotting and then it went away and came back a few hours later.  My ob said not to worry. I trust her, so I am not worrying much. I have my 26 week appointment on Monday so I just have to keep my shit together till then.  At this point, sex is ok but mostly I want to keep going with it because if we stop then that is it for maybe five months.  I think Mr. went without for seven months with Peter.  Which is fine but you know, that is a long time. 

I wish I was not so irritable. God.  I swear I am usually pleasant.

First I would like to share a quote from an email my sister just sent me.

"did you really curse in the mall? don't be like walmart people. Why didn't you have the stroller? did you notice you're way more cranky?"  Yes.  I did curse in the mall.  I looked much prettier than your average Wal-Mart shopper at that given moment.  I did not have the stroller BECAUSE I JUST DIDN'T and if you can keep Peter in his stroller more power to YOU.  Yes, I am more cranky than normal. Thanks for noticing. 

We have made it to week 25, 15 weeks to go till D-Day.  I was thinking yesterday that if you said to someone that you were going to the Bahamas in 15 weeks they would be like...who cares?  That's a long way off.  But when I think 15 weeks till we go from three to four, I think of a list of chores and how the longer it takes to finish them the bigger I will be and the harder it will be to finish.  And I think about laundry and cleaning and cooking and putting the nursery together and Christmas and Peter's birthday being 11 days after my due date and 15 weeks does not seem very long at all.  It seems really, REALLY close.   You know what else seems close? 29 weeks.  At 29 weeks when I was pregnant with Peter I went on bedrest.  That's the week before Christmas.

Mr. is adamant that I rest and take it easy and etc etc , but how is that even possible? I have Peter.   When he is not climbing everything we own he is riding the cat or swinging his truck like a war hammer.  I have been keeping an eye on my blood sugar and it is not terrible.  But both my ob and the high risk dr. said there is really nothing I can do to avoid bed rest and that either it will happen or it won't.  NO PRESSURE THERE.  Mr. and I discussed it long ago and set Christmas as our deadline to be ready for the baby.  Umm?  Well, kind of?  I mean the nursery just needs a new crib and a dresser and the baby clothes have to get re-washed and put away but that is not too bad.  I feel a little bit..doomed.  Like, doomed to bedrest with a toddler who will watch Winne the Pooh seven times a day while living off milk, yogurt, and fig newtons while I either feel guilty about not playing with him or guilty about not resting.

So I am a heady mix of thrilled to be pregnant and getting close to nuts about the THIRD TRIMESTER OF DOOM.  And yeah, I am a bit crankier THANKS.

This weekend we made progress on Christmas and made 10 jars of fig jam.  That was supposed to be it but Mr. decided to make cranberry mustard yesterday.  I was unthrilled.  Yesterday we needed to clean, do three loads of laundry, drive an hour each way to pick up my car that was at my sisters, buy Peter new pajamas and mittens, and supposedly go grocery shopping, and get our Holiday Family Photo taken at 5 15.  Soooooo, not the best day for a kitchen project.

 I lost my mind chasing Peter while Mr. made mustard and it involved awesome things like strawberry yogurt falling on our hardwood floor and Peter refusing to get ready and doing the alligator death roll while I tried to change his diaper and a headache and just general insanity.  We got out the door a half hour late and I self-medicated with a giant cookie and a half decaf coffee.   Then we got to my sisters and Peter ran amuck and had a fine time while we choked down lunch and left a half hour late ( Mom- "Don't forget to take your car!"  Thanks Mom, I'm pretty sure I can remember an ENTIRE CAR.) Then we raced home so we could get ready in TWENTY FIVE MINUTES so we could go to the mall and take our Happy Holiday Picture.  Which meant 25 minutes for Peter's bath and Mr.'s shower and then Mr.  and his whole what should I wear???!!!.  You know Boo, I love you but I told you more than once to pick out something AHEAD OF TIME.

Then we got to JC Penney's and even though we had an appointment, the place was packed like the DMV and we waited for 45 minutes while Peter rapidly spiraled from happy toddler with milk to CRABBY TODDLER TRAPPED IN JC PENNEY'S.  Mr. decided he was unhappy with his sweater, please imagine how I was ready to kill him a little bit because how is one argyle sweater different from another? Who cares?  NO ONE IS LOOKING AT YOUR SWEATER AND NOTICING HOW THE GRAY IS CLEARLY A BETTER CHOICE THAN THE NAVY.

While Mr. was off looking at sweaters Peter was racing through the store trying to burn off all his energy and touch everything and LOOK AT THE TREES AND THE GLASS ORNAMENTS AND SANTA AND NOW I AM UNDER THE TREE WHY CAN'T I HAVE THE GLASS ORNAMENTS AND NOOOOOOOOOOOO MOMMMMMMEEEEEEEYYYYYYY I WANT THE TREEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS and I had a hold of his little arm while he wiggled and pulled and tried his damnedest to  lacerate himself on some shattered ornaments.  So yeah, I was the Mom saying "dammitall Peter, stop it!" and everyone was watching us and probably thinking I was the best. mom. ever.

Soooo it was finally time to take our Happy Holiday Family Photos and none of us were all that happy.  Peter was not in any kind of mood to sit or stand and the nice lady just kept inflaming him by shaking toys at him to try and get him to smile.  All she did was incite him to fury because he wanted her toys.  I was squished into a pair of non-maternity pantyhose and at any given moment either my underwear or my pantyhose or BOTH were falling down.

We did end up choosing something, and so that is done.  But perhaps next year we can just find some families picture online and photoshop ourselves into it.  Or perhaps next year I will send my sister with Peter to the mall and then ask her why she is cranky when she gets back. 

I am recording today so that if I think getting pregnant again is a swell idea, someone can be like..
" REMEMBER THAT DAY?" and they mean today and then I pour myself a bottle of wine.

Sooo, I have been trying to really scale back and do less so that I can focus on Peter and my own health.  AKA, I don't pick up Peter's toys at the end of the day and we are eating "semi- home made" dinners, and Winnie the Pooh on dvd is also happening.  Except the Heffalumps, they are creepy.

Soooo it's been rainy and we have been trapped inside.  Today we had two errands.  To go to the Amish Market and to go to the grocery store and buy a few odds and ends so Mr. and I can finish up our Christmas jams this weekend.  Not a big deal, right?  OHHHHHH THE BIGGEST DEAL.

So, at the grocery store we are wandering around getting stuff and I am all excited because YUM JAM, and unlike while pregnant with Peter when my biggest urge was to eat chips and dip, this time around I want to bake and preserve and make lists and etc etc NEST AND NEST AND POLISH THINGS AND CROSS THEM OFF MY MULTIPLE LISTS.  Anyway there we were and I starting getting cramps, like period cramps at the bottom of my stomach.  Kind of around where my c-section scar is.  They were exactly like moderately painful period cramps and I was walking very slowly around the store trying to figure out what to do.  Well, OBVIOUSLY panic.  But besides that.

So I got myself to the car and left a message for the ob and called Mr. at work to warn him that the crap might be hitting the fan.  I drank a bunch of water and went home and tried to be calm and not cry.  I figured if we needed to go the hospital there was no point in putting Peter down for nap( OF COURSE IT WAS NAP TIME, DUH.) if I was just going to have to wake him up and drag him to the hospital.  Soooo we watched Winnie the Pooh while I waited for the phone to ring.  Peter ate his lunch.  I played on F.a.cebo.ok to distract myself.  Which would have been great if it was not World Prematurity Day, and my poor friend posted a picture of her baby born at 23 weeks, who lived for a bit and then died.  That was about as awesome as you can imagine.

Then my ob called back ( I love her so hard) and she said that while they would prefer no contractions (ME TOO), unless I have more than four in an hour for longer than 45 seconds at a time it should be ok.  She said she was not as worried about me since they could not even induce me with Peter and I had to have a c-section.  Ummmmm thank you Fort Knox cervix?  She said right around now is when they start and that with her third baby she had them all the time.  AWESOME.  Anyhow that was a relief.  I called Mr. and he said no more errands for me and that he would do them all and that I was just going to have to be a pampered princess for the next 16 weeks, and that he was going to buy me an enormous recliner with a foot stool so I could relax as much as possible while Peter destroys what is left of our home.

Soooo Mischief Managed, right?  NOOOOOO.
Insane Day Part Deux

I take Peter who is at that point so sleepy he is actually climbing in my lap as opposed to his normal RUNNING AMUCK upstairs for his nap.  We get in the chair and I pick out a very short story and he is fighting to keep his eyes open.  On the last page of the story, HE THREW UP ALL THE THROW UP IN THE WORLD.  On him, on me, on the chair, on the floor.  Everywhere.  For a moment we just look at each other as the pungent smell of yogurt/ovaltine/goldfish swirls around us.

I push panic aside.  Sort of.   First I stripped us both naked to avoid getting barf dripped around the house.  Then I wiped his hands off.  Then I dragged him to the bathroom while I took a prison shower to get the barf off me while holding on to Peter with one hand.  Then I start to fill Peter's tub.  Peter breaks free and runs to our bedroom to play with electrical cords and the alarm clock.  I drag him back out.  He runs to his room, and I try and decide what to do about the pukey area rug.

I put Peter in his crib so I can deal with the rug. It's pretty light and so is the crib so I felt safe moving it out of the room so that the room smelled less like the aftermath of a frat party or some bad Chinese food.  Peter thought that was very exciting and was hanging/standing/climbing on the edge of his crib.  He thought it was hilarious when I shouted at him to stop.  All I could picture was Peter falling out of his crib and landing on the hardwood and then having to call an ambulance or take him to the ER except we were both NAKED and how I would probably go into labor just from the stress AND AWESOME.

So with the rug dragged into the hall with our puke covered clothes, I get the extra hall rug and put it in front of his crib, Peter helps me by jumping on the rug and tripping on it face first and crying. EXCELLENT, he landed right on the spot he slammed into the coffee table this weekend.  Sorry sweetheart.  Mommy wants to cry too.

Then I tell him "Time for tubby!" and he runs with his stuffed animal to the bathroom while I race behind him put not fast enough and Mr. Puppy takes a bath.  I take out Mr. Puppy( FINE, Walter the Farting Dog) and toss him dripping into our bedroom, Peter goes after him and whacks himself in the FACE with the bathroom doorknob. 

I get him in and out of the tub and dressed.  He is asleep.  I am eating two pounds of leftover spaghetti( FINE, and some stale Cheetos), my hand still smells a bit like barf and I don't care.  Holy Mary Mother of GOD.

Daddy gets home in three and a half hours.

Peter was fine today.  Pre-pregnancy I would have called this an awesome, average, super fun day.  We took a walk, we went on errands, we snuggled and read stories, Peter scampered around the neighbors yards with the little girl across the street.  We had take out for dinner. 

However. 

Peter's first super short walk around the block involved me lurching after him to keep him out of the street and panting to keep up with him.  I feel so guilty when I can't let him run, or even take the same walks we used to take.  The errands were difficult, in that Peter is VERY uninterested in being in a stroller and VERY interested in exploring.  By the time we got home I fed him lunch and put him down for nap.  But I still had dishes to do and the dishwasher to unload and a car full of groceries to unpack and the garbage needed to go out and there were two loads of laundry to get put away.  And yeah.  I could have let everything sit.  But for how long? Forever?  Till Ali.ce from the Br.ady B.un.ch comes to fix everything?  Ugh.  I feel like I can either rest while Peter naps and then have the house look like a shitstorm till Peter goes to bed( and honestly I have about a half hour in me at the end of the night which is NOT long enough to do everything) or I can get stuff done and then be exhausted. 

I mean, it is super easy to say "leave the housework" but leave it till when?  Till I am less pregnant?  Till my husband gets home at ten o'clock( he has bowling once a week)?Till we put Peter to bed and my husband has a good two hours of classwork ahead of him?  Till 7 a.m. the next morning when I have energy but only a limited amount of time?  Just getting take out is an ordeal.  Which sounds spoiled, but it's kind of like hot potato, juggling take out and Peter and the stroller.  And having Peter playing with the girl across the street meant I was chasing him up and down the block because he does not get it that you can't run too close to the edge or you will fall off the lawns here. The lawns here are not level with the sidewalk and are about 8 inches off the pavement.  Usually with cement retaining walls.  I let him fall sometimes to get a little hurt so he can learn to be careful but so far he has not learned a damn thing  He just rips face first through life, having the best time ever.  Which is fantastic, except for the part where he has no concept of self preservation.

 Peter is so wonderful and sweet and funny and just wants something he totally could have had a month ago.  Or even two weeks ago.  I do not like having to choose between what is best for me and the baby and what is best for Peter.

Hooray for us!  We are very excited.  This week was jam packed with problems.

Tuesday I went and got my hair cut.  It was atrocious and my husband said I looked LIKE HIS MOM. 

Friday I begged my sister to come down and watch Peter so I could get my hair fixed.  It is now less of a trainwreck and I am not depressed every time I walk past a mirror.

Saturday morning I was so happy not to feel ugly anymore that Mr. and I did the deed and then I had some bleeding.  But no cramping.  I spent the morning on Vagina Watch while trying to get the house ready for company.  It was not terribly scary because I figured we had had some bleeding after sex in the first trimester too and that was ok. But it was not fun either and the idea of having to go to the hospital for monitoring either alone or with Peter was not attractive.  I mean, going to the ER always sucks, but I am guessing that going while toting your active child sucks MORE. 

Then that night during an otherwise awesome visit with our friends Peter tripped on NOTHING and ran into our padded coffee table and it was pretty bloody.  Red was just our theme that day.  Ugh.  But Peter's ped. says that he should be fine. 

Sunday I was completely exhausted all day and took two naps and then went to bed at 9 30.  Oh man.  This baby is kicking my ass. 

But today is nice and quiet and I managed to clean the kitchen and eat lunch and am gonna have some coffee since while I am tired I am also wired and I don't think I could sleep right now.  My next appointment is in two weeks. 

Oh yeah.  The point I have been dreading for 23 and a half weeks is closing in on me like Darth Vader swooping down a hallway.  Exhaustion.  Exhaustion + toddler = Falling asleep by 9 30 p.m., fully dressed and sitting up on the couch.  I am beyond thankful that Christmas prep is well under way and that Mr. is demanding I tone my whole Holiday Thing down by many, many notches.

But you know, we knew it was coming and for the most part I feel great. Yesterday we walked for an hour and then later for half and hour and that was too much.  Peter was so happy crunching through the leaves and looking at the full moon.  I did not have the heart to go home.  My cankles made me pay later.  Mr. said last night that I am completely different person this time and it is true.  I was so afraid all the time with Peter.  Having the daily pokings and proddings are a constant reminder that everything is fine. Had I realized what a huge difference it would make in my peace of mind I would have gotten a home doppler with Peter.  At this point in my pregnancy with him I was just about to think I was feeling something.  I have to say this blog has been a great resource since i can go back and look at how I felt and what was coming.  I saw that Thanksgiving weekend with Peter I did too much and had contractions, so I know to make sure to take it slow NOW since I am two weeks ahead of where I was with Peter. 

We have had some sitcom-y type happenings, in that Peter thinks it is hilarious to squeeze under the bed and I can't reach him and he stays there and laughs while I slooooooowly scootch down between the bed and the wall to grab that little stinkers feet and haul him out.  He is starting to be able to outrun me now too.  Which is sad because it limits where I can take him safely. We are having short walks with him on foot and then a longer one with him in the stroller. Depending on where the baby is, sometimes I can tie my shoes and sometimes I can't. 

We both feel that Peter has had some kind of developmental jump and he is having so much more imaginary play now, as well as solitary play.  So much that I am actually considering crocheting so that I can sit on the couch while he plays trucks.  Getting him to entertain himself has been a HUGE goal of mine.  Our mini goal of him being able to get down the stairs alone( with us in front just in case) is going swell and he is also helping dress himself.  He has slowly been adding a few more words to his vocabulary.   He grew a whole inch since his 18 month appointment and I'm sure has put a little weight on. 

I really have to go clean the kitchen but I am just sitting here resting. 

17 to go!  Yikes!  It seems both a long way away and scarily soon.  We had a very nice weekend.  I baked and we rearranged the living room and we had a goodbye dinner with my parents because they are moving to North Carolina this week.  Which I think is moronic, but it's not like it is my decision.  Go.vernor Ch.ris Chri.stie is depriving my babies of their grandparents with his insane taxes.  Hopefully the asshole will infarct soon.  Though it's too late for us since my parents have already sold their home.

We saw MIL yesterday.  She was herself.  Please insert the longest sigh ever.  It was the best visit we have had in a long time but I am pretty damn sick of her and I don't think that will change.  She is FOREVER treating me like an incubator put on this Earth to churn out more of her Glorious Piney Genes.  Bitch.  Everything Peter does is because he is her grandson.  It's creepy.  He's his own person. Plus it is FUCKING ANNOYING to hear every single thing he does being ascribed to their genetic contribution.  She makes me feel like a dog they are breeding.  My husband sometimes reads this blog, I hope he skips this one because I complain about his Mom a lot.  BECAUSE SHE IS A PAIN IN MY FAT ASS.  And really I think much like in divorce where even a persons breathing begins to annoy you, I think that I will not be able to get past how I feel about her and ever actually be comfortable around her again. Which is a shame because she is good with Peter.  I would not leave Peter alone with her, but he enjoys her company.   But then, he enjoys a lot of peoples company and MIL is just one of those people.

I have had a really short temper this weekend, which I think is somewhat self evident.  Poor AYM called me today when I was all ranty and she got a big cup of angry tea.  Usually I am pretty happy but I think the hormones are starting to get to me. 

I cannot believe how angry I sound.  RESPECT for the pregnancy hormones.  I think I am going to have to keep some emergency chips with me till March.

We had a lovely, lovely day on Tuesday.  Peter played so nicely and was very happy, we went and ran errands and went to the library and Peter played hide and seek in his quilt rack, then we visited our neighbors and she came over for dinner.  It was such a nice day and he was so happy that I let him stay up an hour past his bedtime.

And it was good that Tuesday was nice because I woke up on Wednesday with The Big D( I got that from Amanda and it cracks me up every time.  So Mr. had to stay home.  It was pretty funny because Mr. has never spent more than an hour or so alone with Peter before.  It went well, just the normal toddler disasters of spilled coffee and near death/broken something falls.  I am freaking beat down today but Mr. had to go back to work since I was well enough to function.  Peter is napping and I am eating chips and dip because I am hungry but too tired to fix food.  I'll go get something soon. Ugh. 

On a lighter note, Mr. said the baby kicked the crap out of me. ahahhahaaaa