Sorry, sorry, sorry!

Instead of copying and pasting this post into a new post with today's date on it (given that it'll be posted 3 days later than I said it would...) I'm leaving it as it is so that you know that I really did start this post the next day. It's taken me a few days to get it all together. I blame the photos, which take more work than the actual typing, but they make it so worth it! Here's one now, for good measure:


As promised, this will be the "details" post.

So here are the short details for those who don't like to hear too much about pushing, placentas and maybe some blood (and for all the boys who just don't care!):

-from the time my waters broke to the time our little boy was delivered I was in labour for almost 17 hours, though my midwife wrote it down as 12, from the first time she "checked me" at 6:30am to the time Elijah was delivered
-we left for the hospital at 7:30am, had an epidural at 11am
-I wasn't allowed to eat anything. It sucked big time. I also wasn't allowed to walk, but I totally didn't care about that.
-I delivered Elijah at 6:39pm. It was pretty much the most amazing and shocking thing I've ever experienced. My first thoughts on seeing him? In order, "A baby?!?!!!", "ohhh, he's cute!" and "wow, look at his hands. They look funny. I wonder why...?"
-every test we took came back saying he's perfectly healthy, and his scores when he was born were 9/10 (which, by the way, is great. Beyond great, in fact)
-the three of us stayed one night in the hospital, and came home Thursday in the afternoon. He's a sweet, sweet baby and we're very happy (and sleepy!)

AND now for a picture of Eli when he was being weighed.


There. Does that satisfy the generally curious out there? ;)

Okay, now for the people who like the long, detailed version.

First of all, Matt and I thought it was funny, how you could list off all sorts of things you did the day/night before you went into labour, and then attribute going into labour to any one of those things. If we gathered everyone's list, I'm sure there would be many non-sensical things we'd be doing (or NOT doing) just because someone did them the day before they went into labour.

So, here are the "labour inducing" things I did the day before everything happened. I did a lot of walking (sewing machine shopping), I had my membranes swept (bleh), I ate spicy chicken wings that made my eyes water, and I picked a date for being induced (Saturday.) Then I went into labour overnight. It could have been from ANY of those things. OR it just could have been because I was 13 days overdue, and ready to have this baby....take your pick.

So, I was sleeping and at around 1:45 am I woke up because of this thump that I felt. It felt like Eli had kicked me hard in my lower stomach (which of course is not possible seeing as he's been head-down for 3 months.) I also felt a lot of gushing (gross, I know. I have to make it gross now though, to give you plenty of warning, in case you want to turn back before reaching the end!) I knew it was my waters breaking, and I calmly tried to go back to bed (it, of course, being the sensible thing to do) but I couldn't sleep. It felt like Christmas. And I was having mild contractions. I really don't know if I'd been having contractions before my waters broke or not, because I was sleeping.

So I got up, made myself an early breakfast (because I FELT like eating then and I knew I might not later. Really, I was strangely sensible for it being 2:20am by that point) and puttered around on the computer. Then I tried going back to bed, but as soon as I laid down I started getting stronger contractions. They were 8 minutes apart, then 6, then 8, and so on. I decided to wake Matt up at 4am because I felt like I just needed someone to hold my hand when it got tough.

At 4:14am I had a contraction, then 4:19, then 4:24 (it was like clockwork, SO weird) and from that point on they were 5 minutes apart. I wasn't expecting to get to that point so soon, so I was excited. We called my midwife at 5:20, because by then it had been one hour, one minute long contractions, five minutes apart.

She came by around 6:15, checked me at 6:30, and I was between 3 and 4cm dilated and 100% effaced. Over the next 45 minutes, the contractions got really intense and I could not for the life of me find a comfortable position or any sort of rhythm. I thought to myself how people had always told me that they would "go to their happy place" and that they could cope that way. I was not finding any happy place though, and was having a difficult time because in an hour the contractions had changed, so that I would have 3 or 4 stronger contractions back to back, and then have a few minutes with nothing. I would just start to fall asleep in the few minutes and then it would start again.

At 7 I thought to myself, "I'm only 4cm at best, I'm already exhausted from only having 2 1/2 hours sleep, and I really don't think I can handle this up until delivery." So I talked to my midwife, and she warned me that even if we left right then, it could still be 2 hours before I could get pain relief. She also said that the morphene wouldn't take away the pain, and some other things about it, and I realized that I would rather try the epidural.

What is really hard to explain is my okay-ness with the epidural after all my fears about it beforehand. Even I can't figure it out. I just felt like that was what I needed, and I'm so glad I did. I'll tell you why later.

So we got to the hospital just after 8am. I had to check in at emergency and it was brutal. I'm sitting there at a triage desk with groups of random sick people behind me, trying to not vocalize the pain I'm having through a contraction, and then the lady gets the files wrong and has to start all over. Not impressed. Then my midwife made me do the stairs and walk to the maternity ward instead of using the elevator and wheel chair. Also not impressed. The contractions hurt a lot more when I was standing, which was probably why my midwife wanted me to walk...they were probably doing more for delivery, etc, than if I was sitting in bed. Again, though, didn't care.

So I got to the labour and delivery ward, got set up, and laboured for quite a while before the epidural was actually administered. At 9am I heard one of the nurses say that the doctor would probably be down in an hour and a half. I was counting down the minutes until 10:30, but they didn't come down until almost 10:45.

I had read lots of places that it takes around 30 minutes to do an epirdural. Actually, an anesthesiologist told me it took that long too, so I was expecting a long, gruelling process that involved holding still through a lot of contractions. It wasn't like that at all though, and I'm so grateful. It took about 10 minutes from start to finish, and a good chunk of that time we were explaining the nature of my back problem from when I was 13 to the doctor. The worst part (and scariest) was when I involuntarily jumped at the localized anesthetic. I didn't know it was going into the skin over my spine, and the jump was pretty bad. From that second on all I did was huddle up hugging pillows and pray to Heavenly Father. The amazing thing, though, was that I did have a contraction while they were doing it, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as the ones I had previously had. It was the most bearable one I had had since the start of labour. I think it was an answer to prayer. And when I told Matt about how scared I was, he said he was praying the whole time too.

Once I had the epidural life was beautiful, for both Matt and I. He claims that it was as though he was the one who had the epidural, because he felt so much better after. It was hard for him to see me in so much pain and not be able to do anything. The Matthew factor was hard for me, too, because I wanted him there, but one second I would want him to rub a spot, and then I'd need him to stop. He'd try to tell me to breathe when I was screaming, but I just got frustrated because I KNEW I should be breathing, but it hurt so much I needed to scream. Didn't he understand that? And come on, I was exhaling just as much through a long scream than I was through a long breath out. Really people.

Here is a picture of a content, post-epidural me:

Not the most flattering photo, but who's counting?

So, point is, life got better once the epidural was in. Matt could touch me again, I wasn't thrashing around in pain, things were quiet, and (this might sound terrible) but my midwife was kinda out of the picture.

I'm surprised I felt that way, but in the end, Matthew and I agreed that we liked the nurses 100 times better than my midwife who was there. She was just so...bossy. I expected her to be more like a coach who is also certified to deliver babies, but she wasn't coach-like at all. It felt like I wasn't being listened to, and that she didn't have any sympathy for when something really hurt. We think that it's because she has to be more tough than a nurse can be because she's like the doctor. She needs to make sure things get done. Nurses help to make things get done comfortably. It's like the good cop bad cop thing.

But anyway, we loved our nurses. They spent more time with me than my midwife was doing BEFORE the transfer of care, and they answered all my questions patiently and had general life conversations with me (because I could think about many important things to say once the pain was out of the picture for a bit.)

I personally think that I was prompted to go to the hospital for the epidural because I wouldn't have been able to handle the natural homebirth with that midwife there for all of it. I wouldn't have had the support that I needed to manage the pain and to feel empowered. Really, when she was around I felt like I was a baby myself, and that I wasn't capable of doing anything remotely worthwhile, let alone delivering a baby.

So enough about that...for now. ;)

When the epidural was put in at 11am the pain went away completely. They checked me again at that point, and I was between 6 and 7cm. I wonder how long labour would have been if I had continued without the epidural. I know it would have been shorter, I just wonder how much shorter.

At 1pm I started to feel a lot of pressure that I was told was unavoidable, and that the epidural wouldn't take that pain away. Shortly before 2pm, I was breathing and trying to not scream through contractions again because of the pressure. I was wondering if it was supposed to hurt that much if you had an epidural. I asked, and they said they were going to increase the strength of the epidural, fix the line that went into my spine (because it was too much to the left, making my left side numb and my right just fine) and give me some oxytocin to speed things up. I guess I hadn't gone beyond the 6 or 7 that I had been 3 hours earlier. I felt wary about having the oxytocin because it meant another intervention, but the epidural was slowing things down too much and they needed to break the cycle my body was going through with the whole 3-4 contractions back to back, 3 minutes off thing.

They gave me the boost of epidural and I felt good once more. It DID make the pressure pain go away, which was nice. I napped (for 20 minutes) and Matt napped (for over an hour...lucky.) and everything was manageable again. At 4pm they checked me and I was 8cm, and at 4:30 I was at 9. So dang that oxytocin was working well. I hadn't been feeling any urge to push yet, so they left me for a while. By 4:30, though, I was starting to feel the mounting pressure again. I knew there wasn't anything anyone could do, because if they gave me more of the epidural then I wouldn't feel anything and wouldn't be bothered to push. By 5:50 I started to feel like I wanted to push, and I heard someone in the hall say that my doctor was going to come check me shortly.

Then my midwife comes in (my care transfers right back to her once the baby is born) and she checks me, doesn't even TELL me that I'm 10cm, and then starts telling me what to do to push. She says to give it a try, so I do, and then she chastizes me for not trying harder. Really, I thought it was a practice run until the doctor got there to check me. But no, it was the real thing and I felt like it had happened so quickly and without warning that I hadn't prepared myself mentally for it. It was like going to the dentist's for a cleaning and then they tell you they have time to do a filling too. So you tell them 'no' because you simply did not come for a filling.

Well, I tried saying no, I'd rather wait, but I wasn't allowed. That's when I started cluing in to the fact that this was real pushing.

At one point my midwife told me that I needed to push his head past the pelvic bone, so I asked her if after that point he'd be born quickly. She said no, not necessarily, and I almost started crying, because that one thing seemed so hard to do, and it wasn't even the end. So the whole time I'm pushing it's with this attitude of despair (the drama queen in me) feeling like I'll be pushing for 2 hours, and wondering if we'll end up needing to use forceps or a vacuum. Thank goodness my mind never thought, 'episiotomy', because I don't know what I'd have done.

I explain all of this so that I can attempt to convey the complete shock I felt when he actually was born. I had NO IDEA that we were that near the end; I thought we were still at the pelvic bone part. Even when they were saying, "I can see the head!" and "look at all that hair!" I thought it'd be an hour yet. I had been pushing for 40 minutes by the time he was born, and when he came out and they placed him on me it was one of the biggest surprises of my life, realizing that there was a baby there, he was real, it hadn't all been a dream or made up, and that I had really, actually, done labour and delivery.

So as mentioned above, my thoughts upon seeing Elijah were, in this order, "A baby?!!", "He's so cute!" and, "why do his hands look funny to me??" Random thoughts to have, I know, but that's what went through my head! Then I processed that he was warm, screaming, and mine, and all I could think about was how much I loved him and was so happy to finally meet him. It's funny because, it hurt so much, and I remember thinking more than once, "Would I want to do this again?" but remembering that moment, and knowing that its preciousness will never come back, I know I would do it again. And don't worry, I know there'll be many other precious moments to experience and cherish. I just want to make sure that I remember that one.

Beyond precious.

Anyway, I'll make the last of this quick, because I've really rambled on.

There was tearing, although I'm not sure how many stitches I have total, because I was told it's just one long stitch. When I said, "Well, that's not impressive to tell people!" I was told, "you could lie and say there are 65 if you want..." but that was a terrible thought so I opted for the truth. I had never had stitches before, so I was hoping to be able to say accurately how many stitches I had, because it was definitely more than one, but whatever.

I stayed in labour and delivery until just before 11pm, which is longer than normal, but I think that was mostly because they forgot to turn the epidural off until 9, and I had to be able to walk a little in order to go to the maternity ward. In the meantime, Aaron, Rachelle and Matt's parents came by for a quick visit and introduction, They brought us Burger King, for which I will always be grateful. I felt famished, and even after eating an entire salad and Matt's fries, I felt that there was this gaping hole in my stomach. (I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast at 3am.)

Me, sassily eating a french fry, and looking better already.

We ended up staying overnight one night because Elijah and I were both running a fever, and also because I didn't want to deal with the animals and being alone on the first night. I thought I'd enjoy it more, just sleeping, nursing, sleeping some more, and not worrying about things, but it was really crummy and I decided in the middle of the night that I just wanted to be at home. It was good that we did stay though, because we had some concerns that turned out to be normal, but I wouldn't have known that if I was home alone.

Here are a few more photos taken in the hospital:

First family photo.

Words can't even express what I feel when I see this.

I've really got to get a shot with his eyes open. But in the meantime, isn't he the sweetest?!

Sleep, puffy, and oh so happy!

So there you have it! That's pretty much the entire birth story. Well, not the entire birth story, because I learned that there are things people never tell you about labour and delivery. Gross things, that even I won't post on here. If you simply must know, email me and I'll be happy to ruin your day, or at least your next meal!

I'm still amazed that it even happened. It's so strange to think that I'm not pregnant anymore, that being pregnant is now something I've been rather than something I am, and that it's history. Weirder still is my memory of labour and delivery, which is quickly fading away. It's easy to forget it even happened, except when I'm in pain from stitches and stuff, but even then I'm focused on the pain rather than the cause. Sometimes when I'm doing normal things with Matt around I'll forget I even have a baby, but then I glance over and see this:

Reading scriptures

and this:

Playing xBox

and my heart completely melts.

Matthew is so happy and proud to have a son, and can't wait to do older, fun things with him. In the meantime, we're contenting ourselves with marvelling in Elijah's newness, and in the amazing miracle we've been given.

So this is love

Announcing to the world our little prince, Elijah Matthew G-!

He arrived safely yesterday, January 27th at 6:39pm, weighing in at 9lb 7oz, and 22" long.

More pictures and details to come tomorrow, as I am Tired. With a capital 't'.

So this is the miracle, that I've been dreaming of...

So this is love.

Some day my prince will come

Some day. The pessimistic part of me says, "not today, nor tomorrow, nor the next day..." and I've pretty much given up trying to quelch that pessimistic voice, because it feels better than the optimistic one that builds me up in the morning, saying, "maybe today is the day!" only to tear me down later when nothing happens.

I know this may come off as whiny, but I'm beyond the point of caring. 9 days is a long time to go overdue, and I'm starting to freak out a little bit.

On Thursday I have a consult about being induced. I am beyond unimpressed, and had very high hopes that I wouldn't need my appointment and ultrasound 2 days ago, but I had them anyway. The appointment was boringly disappointing, and the ultrasound was pretty much perfect in terms of this little prince's comfortability level, which of course is a GREAT thing. It was my little shining star from Thursday, which was otherwise a dismal day.

But being 5 days away from needing to be induced is very daunting. Partly because it means actually being induced, and partly because it hits me how very very close this is. I'm wanting it every second of the day, and at the same time, I have a hard time picturing what "it" actually is and entails.

Matthew's and my life together will change. Right now, it is one way, and it has been that way for nearly 5 years. We're happy, comfortable, and know what to expect. But these days are numbered (quite literally) and our life is about to take a completely different turn than what we are used to. I know I signed up for this, but I can't help but feel anxious about the change. Mostly I try to not think about it, because I want the change, but that doesn't mean I'm unhappy with my life.

It's a weird place to be, being comfortable, but knowing that your life needs to change in order for it to keep moving forward. And then, not having any control over when it WILL change. If it's going to change, then I'd rather just DO it (it helps that the change involves a sweet little bundle of delicous baby-ness) than wonder when it will be thrust upon me.

Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not the only overdue pregnant woman to ever go crazy from anticipation, nor do I expect to be the last. I'm not looking for pity or for someone to pat me on the back and say, "there there, you goose! Do you know how short 5 days is???" Mostly I'm just organizing my thoughts because they're all jumbled up in my head and it hurts to think them out without writing them down.

Do you know what all of this reminds me of? It reminds me of when we were waiting to adopt. For the month or two before we found out I was pregnant I would wake up just about every morning and think, "maybe we'll get the call today..." and every time the phone would ring I would think, "maybe it's our CAS with a child for us..." It didn't help that we were getting calls from them about our worker changing, or setting up appointments, and so on. There were a lot of false alarms when their number would show up on the caller ID only for it to be something other than, "are you free to come into the office tomorrow? We have a child we'd like to discuss with you..." It's like how I feel pains in my stomach and get excited until I realize I just need to go pee.

With adopting, I felt out of control, like it was going to be any day, but I was at someone else's mercy and all I could do was busy myself and try to not think about it. THAT part was admittedly easier with adopting...it was easier to clear my mind of the fact that we were waiting for The Call when I wasn't carrying around the child-to-be in front of me, just shielded by an immovable covering. In so many other ways though, I feel just like that. The excitement, the anxiety, the "can I handle this??", the fear. Everything.

So what is the point to all of this rambling? The pill in all this jam, so to speak? I guess it's that I'm going nuts, I'm confused, I'm excited, I'm tired, I'm feeling anti-social, and I'm trying to remind myself that this little prince of mine is fine, healthy, and that he really will be here soon. Maybe not this day. Maybe not the next day.

But some day.

Lady in waiting

This morning after my shower I started compiling a list of things in my head. I was feeling a little crabby and I went downstairs immediately after and started rattling them off to Matthew. It's basically what I perceive to be my "rights", being 41 weeks pregnant and all.

I reserve the right to...

-wear track pants instead of jeans, and go out in public like that
-cancel plans for visitors to come over simply because I don't feel like having company
-kick the dog out of the chair I want to sit in, even if he was fast asleep spread-eagle on his back looking so cute
-not WANT to make dinner, even if I still WILL make dinner. I'm not complaining or anything, I just reserve the right to not want to do it.
-not do one ounce of cleaning or even tidying, and spend my entire day doing random things that are completely unnecessary but good for my sanity. Mostly lazy things.
-not answer the phone, simply because I can't get there in time. And no, it doesn't mean I've gone into labour if we don't answer the phone.
-not answer the phone simply because I don't feel like forcing myself to smile and be social and polite. Trust me, it's better that I don't answer it sometimes!
-feel frustrated and mad when every cramp I get turns out to be a braxton hicks contraction, and every sharp jolt of pain turns out to be the baby readjusting his little head so that it pushes a little bit more on my bladder. Why can't all these pains LEAD TO SOMETHING???

That's about all I've got for now. It's not even that extensive a list, it's just what has occurred to me over the last 6 hours. I'm not feeling crabby now, and I refrain from putting "being crabby to all and sundry" on the list because I don't think that's a right that anyone should have, regardless of their situation, but sometimes it just hits me and I'm glad that it's usually when no-one else is around. Except Matt. He knows how to handle my crabbiness though.

Nothing much is new. A large part of me is posting just so that people don't think my silence is due to labour or a baby or anything. It's really just due to nothingness! Life hasn't been a veil of tears though, it's actually been nice. Here's what I've been up to since my last post:

-Friday we meant to go see Avatar but it was sold out. I rented Fame and watched it and Matt played his video game.

-Saturday I cleaned for hours. Literally, hours. I know it's silly, but I was hoping that once everything in the house was perfect then my body would be like, "Ahhhhhh, that's better. NOW I can have a baby!" but it didn't work! Instead I was just very very sore. Crawling around on the floor setting up the baby swing probably didn't help one bit. BUT the house is clean and feels amazing, and the swing I picked matches our living room perfectly. If I had have thought of picking a swing to match my living room, I'd have picked this one, but I picked the swing I liked best, and it just happened to match, which makes it all the nicer!

-Sunday was a mixed emotions day. I went to church in the morning. I resolved long ago to not go if I was overdue because I didn't want to deal with the people who could put two and two together and realize it's mid-January and my stomach was still "preceding me"...BUT I went anyway, and I'm glad I did. Matthew gave a talk and it was awesome, as usual. He's such a natural orator and teacher. I also really enjoyed Liz M's talk. Then primary was packed...we had 23 kids there, and none were visitors! We were losing Sunbeams left right and centre, and have learned what we need to do to keep them in order and in primary.

The annoying part of Sunday was, of course, related to my still being pregnant. I got 6 "You're still here?!" comments while at church. Actually, within the first 10 minutes of showing up at church! I'm not kidding either, there were 6 word-for-word, honest to goodness, sincere, "you're still here" comments. Part of me hoped that was just something people joked about but it didn't really happen. I think these people must be so far removed from having kids that they have completely forgotten about the urge to bite someone's head off for that remark, but ohhh well, what can I do? My mouth isn't big enough to actually accomplish the act, and it'd look a little funny if I tried anyway. Maybe it'd quiet them up though. (random, I know.) OH...another thing that bugged me about Sunday was the person who insisted to me twice and to Matt once that I'm not REALLY about to have the baby because I haven't dropped at all. I mean, really. Do you need to feel my pelvis? Why would I lie?

The rest of Sunday was really nice though. Matt and I just chilled and enjoyed some quiet time together.

-Monday I went for dinner at Matt's parents, and Joel and Heidi were there. I've really missed them, and I'm so glad they're here for a week yet. I'm a little anxious about the going late thing with them visiting and all, but I'll get to that later.

-Tuesday (yesterday) I looked through some cross-stitching stuff in the morning, and hung out with Heidi in the afternoon. It was fun, we talked, played a board game, went to Fabricland, had lunch. Then last night I puttered around meaning to make it downstairs to spend time with Matt but by the time I walked down there at 8:45 I was almost falling over I was so tired. I've been napping during the day lately and apparently I can't function without that sleep!

That brings us to today. Matt is working from home because he's my hero and he knows I'm more motivated to do things (ANYthing) when he's home. So I'm writing a blogpost, then I think I'll nap, and then take care of dinner. I'm starting to think Matthew got the better end of the stick with this whole dinner thing. A week now, and I'm still making it! Except he was kind and deep-fried my fish for me last night because I hate using the deep-fryer. It was so tasty and sinful. And the night before we were at his parents, so I didn't make dinner then either. (AND I just found out we're going over again for dinner, and Joel's cooking. Hurray!)

I wish with every ounce of me that I was feeling as "ready to pop" as people think I am, but, to me anyway, there's nothing pointing towards this baby coming soon. As I mentioned before, my stomach pains have all been non-real-contraction-oriented. I'm tired, but that's nothing new. The baby is engaged, but he has been for more than a month (5 weeks in fact.) My feet are swelling more which is supposed to be a good sign, but EVERYthing is supposed to be a good sign. I don't know what I'll tell my midwife when I see her next. Is there even any point in rattling off how I'm feeling? The fact is, he'll come when he comes and there's not a darn thing I can do about it!

I'm starting to feel really anxious though. Each day that passes without him coming increases the likelihood of needing an induction and that really upsets me for a few reasons. First, then there's no way I'll be able to deliver at home. I wouldn't even START at home. Also, induced deliveries are harder, more painful, and greatly increase the chance of needing pain meds, assisted deliveries using forceps/vacuums, and needing a c-section. All things I'm averse to doing (home deliveries have none of those, they'd all be cases of me going to the hospital.)

Also, if I don't have the baby by Monday, Joel and Heidi won't get to see him at all. Or, at least not until he's way older than a newborn, because they probably won't be back any time soon, and the soonest we'd visit them is summer.

And then there's the whole, the longer he's in there the bigger he'll be thing. I don't relish the idea of delivering a 9+ lb baby vaginally, and I have never really expected him to be small, so the more time passes, the more worried I get that he'll be huge. My sister's 2nd baby was 10 days overdue, and he was 10 lb's even. 10 lb's!!! She had to have a c-section. And 10 days overdue is only 4 days away. I can feel the tension building up inside of me just thinking about it. I HAVE to have gone into labour by then, right? Please, baby, don't make me do another Sunday at church. I'm begging you.

Anyway, there are all of my woes.

AAAAAAND because pictures are fun and I don't post enough of them, here are some photos for your viewing pleasure.

First I have to tell you about my toilet though. Last night out of nowhere it broke underneath me. I hadn't moved a millimetre, the piece just popped out and fell to the floor. I nearly fell with it! Honestly, if I had been in a really emotional mood at the time I'd probably have cried and attributed it to my weight gain and how big I am, but realistically, it had nothing to do with that. Matt weighs more than me, and it didn't break for him. I guess it was just...time. So here's a picture, because it was actually quite hilarious once the shock wore off.

The broken seat, in all its glory.

Now, you might notice that the other side looked far more likely to break. We thought so too. It tried breaking once, but Matt repaired it with super glue and this handy green stuff called Green Stuff. Here's a close-up of the repair:

What a handyman my husband is!

But alas, there was no warning. And now we have to try to get this old seat off so we can put on the new one. It's no easy task, when the screws are so rusted that they actually crumble at the first sight of a screwdriver. I stripped them pretty well. Oops.

So the worst part of all about this was that the nearest usable toilet is in the basement. Not usually a big deal during the day, because the living room, where I spend most of my time, is half a flight of stairs from either one, but at night I was most upset. See, when I get up in the middle of the night, it's really hard to walk. My muscles have been relaxing for hours and do not co-operate very well. I try to avoid doing stairs unless I'm really thirsty because, quite honestly, I'm afraid of falling down them. So last night I resorted to using half of a toilet seat. I wouldn't recommend it. It was...difficult.

And now that I've tarred my good name forever by talking about something as taboo as where we go to the bathroom, I'll talk about cheerier things! AKA the nursery.

It's been done for a while now but our fancy camera has been at the office, so I haven't taken any photos. Then today I said, "to heck with it!" and pulled out the cheap little kodak we have here and snapped some photos. The quality is terrible, but oh well. You get the picture I'm sure (ha, no pun intended!)

The room from the doorway.

It's a rather little room for all that furniture, but I think we've done pretty well keeping it clutter-free and uncramped. I feel comfortable in it at least, and that's the most important part, because once the baby is old enough to remember the room, the crib, change table and rocker will be gone.

Note also that the colour is pretty washed out. It actually has a warmer feel, it's just, this is a really crummy camera.

Love this. The farm bedding set I picked out, and the glider and footstool Matt and his parents got me for Christmas.

Baskets for diapers, shampoo and other hygiene needs, washclothes and hats. Bottom left is FULL of wipes I was given as shower gifts, and blankets that I'm most likely to use day to day.

Books, stuffed animals with no home yet, extra diapers, toys galore, bibs, a few clothes, bumbo, you name it, it's in there.

That's pretty much it. The room is half the size I'd want it to be, but whenever I think that I just remind myself how the majority of the population was living in 2 room cabins 200 years ago. Seriously, the houses we live in nowadays are the biggest I think the world in general has ever seen. 1100 square feet plus a basement for 2 people? Ridiculous. We're spoiled really.

Anyway, I'm going to go. The photo thing took longer than I thought and I think I'm going to have to forego my nap again today. SAD! Oh well.

And hey, here's something exciting. At the rate I've been posting lately, the next time I post it'll probably be with news of a new little boy filling the space in the nursery above! My heart leaps just thinking about it!!

D-Day

It is officially my due date, and this baby is completely baked. 36 weeks ago today I found out I was pregnant. In some ways it seems like yesterday, and in other ways it feels like it was eons ago.

For the curious out there, here are a couple belly photos of me at 40 weeks (well, 40 weeks plus 2 days, although according to the midwives, today is 40 weeks. But who's counting?? ;)

Hmm...bigger than I realized. That's what I get for not doing an update photo for 5 weeks!


It still looks like I'm carrying super high, hence our predictions of a long baby.

I want to do another photo that compares all of the belly photos to date, but that will have to wait, as I don't have the time to do it now (mw appointment at 10:30...)

So. I had originally planned to have a due date party today. Not a party with lots of people, but a party that got me out of the house and that pampered me. I got the idea from another blogger, and I thought it'd be fun to follow in their footsteps by getting my nails done, having a pedicure, going shopping a little (who knows what for, I don't NEED anything...) and going out for dinner with Matt.

However, I boycotted the idea yesterday when I conned Matt into buying me something that required a lot of bargaining and concessions on both ends. It basically involved me promising to not pout when he goes to work (the whole spending the day alone thing combined with anti-socialism has made the house a scary place at 8:50am...) and to make dinner for him every day until the baby comes.

This probably seems like a ridiculous bargain to most, but if you know me, you know that I don't really cook. At all. I mean, when we got married, I had gone 4 months, probably more, and had only made 3 meals. Some housewife, huh?! Matt likes cooking though, and has never minded. So again, why is this a deal? Well, Matt agreed to it because he knew how long it takes me to do ANYthing in the kitchen, and that cooking would take up a fair amount of my time. I'm also not allowed to con him into cooking the meal for me, although he's promised to help cut raw chicken when occasion permits it. He's so good. :D

So with my afternoons taken up with cooking dinner, I don't have time to wallow and feel bored and anxious. I'm also distracted. AND my new toy distracts me. Another reason Matt gave in.

We'll see who gets the better end of the deal in the end though. The baby could come any day, and I'd have only cooked one meal (yesterday's!)

So back to the due date party. I decided that it'd be good of me to put the money I had set aside for nails, shopping and dinner towards the purchase of the conned bargain toy, rather than going out and being a teeny bit frivolous today. Because frivolity is fun, but only in small doses. AND because I promised to cook every dinner until the baby comes, I technically couldn't get away with going out for dinner today without breaking my promise.

So what am I going to do today, then, so that I don't go crazy? Well, as I mentioned before, I have a midwife appointment in half an hour, then I'm going to go grocery shopping for tonight, then I'm going to work on the series of belly photos for the updated version of this blog post, then I'll pick Matt up for lunch, go home, play with my new toy, take a nap (every day lately, seriously) and then I'll make dinner! Which I'm rather excited about. We're going to have baked trout or salmon, with homemade no-bake macaroni and cheese with broccoli. I feel very domestic just thinking about it.

Hmm...what's new other than all of that?

Well, as this is a blog about Matt AND me, I guess I could fill you in on him a little bit. ;)

He has been working REALLY hard lately, trying to get everything done that he needs to before the arrival of our baby boy. He'll work from home a little bit once the baby comes, but January is a mercilessly busy month for him and the employees at the office, with one release after another, and there's a lot to do. Not to mention the fact that one employee is away for 2 weeks and another is in the middle of moving and has been busy with that. Soooo there's a lot on his plate right now.

That doesn't mean he's miserable though (Matthew? Miserable? I can't even conceive such a notion, he's too optimistic for it!) especially when the miniature army he collects just got a major overhaul (one of the releases of the month!) The products just came in yesterday and he already has an armful of boxed miniatures that he plans to assemble and paint in his free time. He and Dave did a video of the products yesterday, and he was like a kid in a candy store.

Other than that, he's just waiting, like me, for our baby. Although probably not quite like me, because he's too practical to feel like the baby will never come. He knows the baby is coming and can therefore get appropriately and rationally excited about it. While I, on the other hand, flip flop between disbelief, excitement, fear, anxiety, happiness and intense anticipation, all in the course of 5 minutes! I'm so glad I have Matt to ground me.

Anyway, I had better finish this up so that I can be on time for my appointment. I'll probably just add on to the end of this later today, so if you're reading this morning, be sure to check in later. Who knows what exciting (or unexciting...) things my midwife will tell me this morning!

Update:

Alright. This has taken me an hour just to compile these photos! I even have an 18 week one that I just don't feel like bothering with. Sorry folks. I know, you're heartbroken, aren't you? ;)

You'll have to click on it to see the images enlarged. And I didn't notice until I saw it this small, but that 40 week photo really looks like a basketball stuffed underneath my shirt. I should take some mock belly photos once my belly is small(er!) again, and see how comparable they are.

So my midwife appointment wasn't too much to talk of. I'm disappointed because my favourite midwife who was on call this week is no longer on call. Her dad died on Tuesday and the other midwives in the practice are working to pick up her on-call-ness. BUT it means she definitely won't be there during the labour, because next week goes back to normal, and it's someone else on call that week. Bummer, huh? It's a good thing I like all of the midwives (except maybe one who is just too hippy for me, but she's on the other team.)

Elijah was apparently so far into my pelvis that the midwife I saw today could hardly feel his head. Definitely good as far as labour goes. And all the body preparing stuff. Also, my tummy having Braxton Hicks contractions 24/7 is good because it's pushing him down more and more.

I asked if she (the midwife) had any idea as to when I would go and she said she didn't. SAD. But next week for my appointment, if no-one else is in labour, then they'll do a membrane sweep which *could* naturally induce labour, so that's exciting. Also, I have a biophysical ultrasound next week to check on the little kicker which hopefully I won't need in the end.

That's pretty much it for updates, so I'm going to go now and take a nap before it's time to cook dinner for my boy (meaning Matt of course. But WEIRD that soon you won't know who I'm referring to!)

Perspective gained and cabin fever

Originally I had intended to post about how ridiculously emotional I have been lately, and it's true, I really have been a wreck. But I hesitated in posting too much about it for fear that I would seem to be complaining, or that I would come off as just plain annoying. So I waited, and I'm glad I did.

I'm still emotional. The word I used at lunch today to describe myself is, in my opinion, pretty accurate. I told Matt while fighting back tears that I feel fragile, and that the littlest thing could break me right now.

This morning I was kind of breaking down (so maybe not kind of...) and all I could think was, "I can't do this any more..." which, even at the time, I knew was untrue and silly, but I felt pretty helpless, and I haven't even hit my due date yet.

Then this evening I gained some perspective (aside: gaining perspective always makes me think of Anton Ego from Ratatouille now...does anyone know what I'm talking about?)

Anyway, perspective. I was reading my scriptures, flipping through the New Testament looking for a particular scripture that I felt I needed to read a bit about. It was highlighted, so as I was flipping through I kept stopping to read other verses I had highlighted a while ago. I came across these two in Hebrews 6:

That ye be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises. (v. 12)

And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise. (v. 15)

To make it even greater and more meaningful, it's talking about Abraham and him waiting patiently for the promise of posterity to be fulfilled. Hmm...just slightly related, don't you think?

These two verses, while not the ones I was looking for, were perfect for me right now. I don't know if I'd call myself lazy lately, I HAVE been working away, but there isn't much to clean in my house anymore, and I haven't felt like doing any of the things I used to normally enjoy, like reading or watching movies. Then I go crazy from boredom, and get impatient, and start to despair.

I need to remember the promises that Matthew and I have been given, have faith in them, and trust that Heavenly Father knows what He is about. I need to not worry about the baby dying inside of me before he's born (seriously, my biggest fear lately. Childbirth? No problem. The baby dying before childbirth happens? Oh boy. Can we say 'lost sleep'?) I need to be the one who faithfully and patiently endures.

So then I carried on, looking for my other scripture. I knew the scripture, but I wanted to read it and see if there were any applicable cross-references. I found the scripture I was looking for, highlighted in pink on the last page of Philippians (chapter 4):

...for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. (v. 11)

Obviously applicable, no?

Then my eye glanced further down the page to see this other scripture, also highlighted in pink, that I had forgotten about:

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. (v. 13)

And I thought back to this morning, and my desperate, "I can't do this any more" crying. I knew it wasn't true, but I couldn't muster the strength to rally and believe I could do this a bit more. This scripture helped me to remember that I can do this, no matter how difficult my emotions are to deal with.

I don't know if I've said it before on here, but the most difficult part of being pregnant for me has been the emotional side of things. (edit: I have mentioned this, probably repeatedly. The last time was a mere 8 days ago. My apologies for being horribly repetitive!) I've been so lucky to have an extremely uneventful and easy pregnancy. I expected it to be harder, and physically, I feel like I could go on a lot longer being pregnant and it wouldn't bother me a bit. But the emotions have been more than I bargained for and are starting to drive me wild. I'm desperate to have this baby, not because of the way my body is behaving, but because I don't think my mind can sanely handle too much more. I guess I'm a pretty high-strung person. BUT with all of the above scriptures in mind, I think I can handle it for however much longer I need to. I mean, come on, what is another 2 weeks and 2 days maximum, when you've already been pregnant for 40 weeks (today!)??????

So anyway, there is my philosophical jaw for the day. And now I have to post a video because I feel that it describes how I've been feeling pretty perfectly. It's from Muppet Treasure Island, a movie my little brother and I used to watch over and over and over. I still remember the words!

Enjoy. :D

An update

Remember that phrase that goes, "No news is good news"? I think it's all a farce. I mean, who is ever really content with not having any news? Doesn't it just drive you crazy?

Like when you want a phone call saying someone got home safe, and they still haven't called. Or when you've put an offer in on a house and the real estate agent hasn't got back to you yet. Or you're waiting to get picked up to go somewhere and your ride is an hour late and you're just sitting there waiting.

I'm pretty sure each of those scenarios are examples where no news is NOT good news. And that would still apply even if I wasn't a naturally impatient person. So there.

And for the record, there's no news on the baby.

Here are the facts, because I know you're dying to hear them:

-Eli was considered "dropped" or engaged since 36 weeks. That was almost 4 weeks ago. BUT that doesn't mean too too much for a first time pregnancy, because you can drop quite a bit beforehand.
-my midwife said she'd consider him 'deeply engaged' given that she could only feel two or three fifths of his head. That was exciting for like, a day. Then every day that has passed since has dragged.
-I've been having a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions, which is a good sign that my body is preparing for labour, but not a definite sign of going into labour at any specified time. RATS huh? Oh, except now the Braxton Hicks are always accompanied by crampy pains, and that's something new.
-Sometimes I get real contractions that are short and not very close together and that don't last. Also a good sign (good job body for preparing me so well beforehand!)


Aaaaaaand much as I hate to say it, that's kind of it. There were a few days where I was feeling crampy more, but then the last few days there hasn't really been anything. EXCEPT in the middle of the night a couple nights ago when I had a mini contraction and I decided to keep myself awake and see when the next one would come, totally not thinking about how sleepy that would make me the next day. I ended up being awake for an hour, I felt another 2, and then that was it. So unexciting.

So I've realized something. At first I was excited and paid attention to every single ache and pain I felt, thinking, "Oh my goodness, is this IT?!" and then of course it wasn't (because you'd know by now if it WAS.)

My realization was this: if it was labour, it'd have happened by now. In the meantime, I'm just stressing myself out obsessing over everything. And once labour starts, it's darn near impossible to stop, so I need to stop wondering if this is it, just go with it, and if things happen to start picking up and increasing in strength, length and frequency then I'll start to pay more attention to it. In the meantime, I need to not care so much (not an easy feat for me!)

3 days until my due date. And if that wasn't crazy enough, TODAY is the due date the ultrasound tech gave me (I can't help but keep both dates in the back of my mind.) Why do I care about the difference? Well, it just makes me feel better. The midwives pushed back my due date given the fact that my cycles were normally 32 days long...2 1/2 years ago. It's my fault really. I told them my average length was 32 days, completely forgetting that I hadn't actually calculated the average in a long time, and that over the last year or two they've been shorter than that. Oops. So now they figure it's better to have it later than early so I don't go too far past the date and need to be induced. And I agree, I don't want to be induced. But it feels better for my psyche to believe in both dates and keep them stored away up top.

Yesterday Matt and I were talking and he said that it feels so close, being able to tell people I'm due this week. Like there was a tangible change from Saturday to Sunday in terms of how imminent everything feels. For me, I still have a hard time thinking it'll ever happen. And yet I want it more than I've wanted just about anything.

**SIGH**

I'm just going to stop rambling about baby stuff right now, because I feel like my thoughts are incoherent and that I'm going in circles. To sum up, yes I'm still pregnant (I had a guy yesterday say that I precede myself...not exactly the most flattering comment, but it was meant well), no I don't know when it'll be, no I don't know how big the baby is at this point, yes I just want him out of me, no I don't feel terrible, yes I want to meet him, yes it feels like I've been pregnant forever, yes it feels like time has flown by (both feelings at once, figure that one out!), no I'm not really nervous, and yes I'm very excited.

I wanted to post a new photo of my 9-month along self but Matthew is at work, and the camera is there with him, so no photo for now. Perhaps I'll get him to do one for me at lunch and then I'll post it in a separate blog post. Check in later this afternoon and hopefully there'll be something!

Just wondering

So I've been thinking lately about things I am looking forward to experiencing once the baby comes. This will probably sound strongly like complaining, and perhaps it is, although I'm not completely sure about that. I'm not unhappy with my pregnancy, I guess I'm just trying to figure out how things will change after labour and delivery.

For instance, the swelling. Does it go away right away, or gradually? And if gradually, how gradually? Like, a month? Because it'll be great to be able to wear socks again without cutting off circulation to my feet. And I'm beyond excited to wear my wedding rings again. I feel so bare without them, even if it's been 3 months since I've been able to slip the band off my finger.

I'm also curious about how sleep will change. I'm really glad everything changes and becomes harder slowly rather than all at once, otherwise I might have been a whining mess for the last 8 months. As it is, however, I only really just laugh at myself when I notice how difficult it is to roll over in bed, and how I get a Braxton Hicks contraction every time I attempt it lately. I wonder if once I'm not pregnant, I'll still need to sleep with the blankets between my knees, and if I'll still get up in the middle of the night to go pee out of habit. Probably not, because I'll be getting up for the baby, which is a new habit to adjust to. Hmm.

I wonder how many pairs of shoes won't fit anymore, and how my old clothes will look on me (and how long it'll take for them to fit at all!) I also wonder if my ribcage will go back to normal, or if it will stay inflated. Apparently that happens to some people, or the ribs will stay out on the side where the baby was pushing and kicking more.

Also, the iron deficiency thing. How long until that goes away? It's kindof annoying for feeling out of breath, and I hope it doesn't affect working out too much, because I want to be able to use my treadmill again.

Ohhh, and my stuffy nose. It waited a long time to get all pregnancy stuffed, for which I'm grateful, but I really want it to go away. It makes sleep very difficult, especially when I wake up gasping for breath because I normally sleep with my mouth shut. AND the most appalling thing happened last night. Apparently I had been snoring. Snoring. Ugh. I hate that! And apparently I've been doing it quietly for a couple months now, but lately my nose has been SO stuffed that the snoring has been worse. Last night it was so bad that Matthew had to go to the other bedroom just so that he could fall asleep! I was so upset I could have cried, I hate when he's not there when I roll over.

So there. I wonder how quickly all of these things will change once the baby comes. Will my body bounce back quickly, take its time, or not change at all? Just curious.

Also, I've been going crazy these last few days hoping, waiting and expecting the baby to come, albeit a week and a half early. I had an idea this morning though, and I just know it'll sound ridiculous. See, when I was in elementary school we had to have sex-ed classes. Well, the day after the first week of them in grade 5, my friend got her period for the first time. I was convinced it was psychological. And then the exact same thing happened to me in grade 8 (sorry if that's TMI for any boys reading.) So what if I were to do lots and lots of reading today about labour and delivery? Maybe I could trigger something psychologically!

Then I had another idea. See, I want to bring this old glider to my sister who lives 2 hours away, but my cut-off point to drive that far away was January 1st because any later time is just too close to my due date. What if I went into labour and I was 2 hours from home? It'd be dreadful, wouldn't it? So I sit around at home and avoid anything risky. And still I don't go into labour. All these days pass where it'd have been fine to go see my sister for the day.

Or would it???

I think I should just go and then my body will go into labour to spite me, but really it's what I want, so I win in the end. Because I'm convinced that I can handle a couple very uncomfortable hours in the car traveling home if I'm in labour, and then I'd get here and all would be well. And if I DON'T go into labour visiting my sister, well, at least she gets the glider.

So these are my brilliant ideas for inducing labour. Brilliant, aren't they? Hahaha, it's okay, you don't have to commend me for my superior logic which I am quite sure is non-existent at this point. But seriously, have you got any better ideas? Or ideas for things to just kill time? Because I'm going a little crazy here.

Okay, so not just a little crazy. It's dreadful! I think the hardest pregnancy thing I've experienced is the emotional roller-coaster of having my hormones out of whack and having too much time to think about being pregnant (and please forgive me if I've already said that before.) See, I'm feeling cooped up and bored, but I'm also feeling extremely anti-social. I don't feel like calling people and going many places and doing things. Phone calls are hard to make and return, and I felt like I was going to explode as I walked through the chapel yesterday at church, because I felt like everyone was looking at me. I even deliberately wore my least pregnant-looking pregnancy outfit to avoid drawing attention to my belly, which is getting so big (to me) that it's distracting.

And I'm probably getting boring to talk to and read about because my thoughts are constantly consumed with the baby. AHHH I'm going nuts I think!

I had better finish this up and find something non-baby to do to maintain my sanity for the morning, until Matt gets home for lunch.

The prologue to a bright new year

It's January, and my mind is reeling. It feels similar to when the calendar turned to April some 5 years ago, and I knew I would be getting married that month. My biggest feeling right now is utter disbelief. I'm having a hard time gathering my thoughts, so bear with me.

I think the source of my struggle lies in the fact that we've been waiting so long to have children. There was never a time when we were not actively trying to have kids, no breaks, nothing. I know that to some, 4 1/2 years of waiting is nothing. Take Sarah and Abraham, for example. But I bet even to them, 4 1/2 years felt like a long time when they were at that point.

Either way, my point is that we've been waiting. And waiting. And waiting....to the point where having children of our own has become this foreign idea, rather than a sure thing. When we got married, getting pregnant right away was a given. Then IVF was a given. Then adoption was a given. And after so much waiting, we realized that the only given is waiting some more, even where actually getting pregnant is concerned!

So what do you do when the elusive, long sought after, impossible dream becomes a reality? You sit down on your butt, plug your ears, and say, "I'm not listening!" In short, you disbelieve. And I'm pretty sure shock is involved somewhere too. Or maybe that's what all of this is.

Yeah, that makes sense. Shock.

It is 13 days until my due date. Soon it'll be single digits. I always envied the girls with the single digits! Going from triple digits to double was a pretty big deal to me, but this is bigger. Or smaller!

Anyway, I'm rambling in shock now. The point is, it's so close, and I'm about to be a mommy. I've always been excited that it's a boy, but now I'm a little scared. Boys don't like me. I mean, little boys like me, like toddlers and babies, but not big boys, like ages 4 or 5 and up. What if I'm a lame mom? What if they despise me? **sigh** I'm just not going to think about that right now. I find that if I think too far ahead into the future, I get overwhelmed. Like how and when am I possibly going to bake and do crafts and go on field trips with my kids? I don't have the energy for that!

So. It's January. It's also a new year, AND a new decade. I'd do one of those fun 'decade in review' things, but, quite frankly, I'm too embarrassed to tell you what I was doing in grades 10 through 13 of highschool. So instead, I'll do a year in review. Wait, no, that'll be boring too, especially because I haven't done a whole lot since I found out I was pregnant.

Wait, I've got it. I'll do highlights of 2009. Here are some of the best parts (still in semi-chronological order):

-teaching the Sunbeams at church (seriously, they were so much fun and I miss it)
-passing my grade 4 piano exam with flying colours (WOW that feels so long ago)
-going to visit Julia in Calgary in March, even if I WAS there during record-breaking cold weather!
-finishing my last semester of university with 3 90's and an 80 (did I mention that I had never got a 90 in university until that point??)
-getting my very own pretty camera and starting photography classes with Matthew. Even if the classes WERE dreadfully boring at times, I learned so much.
-finding out I'm pregnant days before Mother's Day. Ohh the tears, fears, joy and gratitude!
-going to girl's camp in July and canoeing like a rockstar. I was so proud.
-becoming an aunt for the second time to the cutest little baby boy ever (so far! ;)
-having ultrasounds and finding out we're having a boy
-finding out Aaron and Rachelle are expecting
-being completely overwhelmed by the love and support shown Matthew and I as I've been pregnant
-realizing just how amazing and loving my husband is. He's been such a strength to me this last year, and has been so supportive and understanding of pretty much every emotion I've gone through this last roller coaster of a year. I love looking back and recognizing how my love for him has grown.


There's so much more that I'm missing, I know there is, but my mind is starting to feel tired, just thinking about how much we've done this last year, so I'll just leave it at that.

As for 2010, I don't have any New Years resolutions. It's not that I don't believe in them, I think they're fun and great, and I'm all about dates and milestones and goals to work towards. It's just that I don't know what to expect from this next year. I know it'll be a good one, and I know that we're going to have a baby and that will just be...amazing. But what do I resolve? To be a good mom? I don't need New Years to resolve to do that. I don't feel like resolving to lose all of my pregnancy weight either, even though I intend to do that, just because, to make that a resolution would sortof be to say that I resent it now, which is silly, because I'm still pregnant. I don't want to focus on what's negative about my body, especially when my baby is still in there and needs me to be the way I am. Heck, he's making me the way I am!

I guess I just want this year to be a good one, like any other year. I want to love others, especially my husband and new baby, to be kind, to be more frugal so that we can make greater strides towards getting out of debt, to keep the house cleaner, to feel the spirit more, to strengthen my testimony, to strengthen my marriage, and to focus more on what is important, rather than being distracted by one hundred million worldy things.

Anyway, I've been rambling on here quite long enough, I think. I'm going to go pull my husband away from his new video game and spend some time with him on this lovely holiday that we have together.

Happy New Year!