The truth is...

I'm miserable.

Everything hurts.

His kicks are so hard I feel like he's going to break a rib.

I'm so short that he has dropped into my pelvis, but is also squarely planted on my respiratory system.

I pee so frequently it hurts to wipe.

I take two to three doses of Colace every day, just so it doesn't hurt to go #2.

I can't stand up without pain.  I can't sit down without pain.

Discharge?  Let's not even go there.  Change of undies every day.

BUT.

The thought of holding this little miracle in my hands and kissing his forehead and toes and snuffling his little neck...

Yeah, it makes it worse.

Because I'm anxious!  And Andy's anxious!  And they say the last few weeks are the quickest!  However, I'm positive that "they" are people who have gone through it and are looking back.  Maybe it's because you never know how long those last few weeks are going to last.  Full term?  Short term?  Past term?

In the meantime it's our anniversary today :)  Look what showed up for me:

 

 

Oh, I've got it GOOD ;)

She's sooooo tiny...

Andy and I had the extreme honor of meeting Miss Olivia Crum for the first time.  I wasn't going to ask to hold her, because I'm not sure I want people holding our son from the get go...but she offered and of COURSE I said yes :)  And of course my son kicked her. 

So I handed her to Andy, where she promptly cuddled into his chest, gave a little sigh, and fell back to sleep.  He just held her little butt and cupped her little head so it wasn't floppy, and I think the both of them could have just taken up residency on the sofa.  He was SO content with her there.  He was playing with her ears, beeping her nose, touching her fingers...like the Gentle Giant I know he is.  My heart was swelling with pride.

I'm learning that the secret to a happy marriage is glorifying your husband in public.  Building him up around strangers and friends.  Not superficially, of course, but with humility and grace.  I love telling others about all the nice things he's done for me.

Oh, for instance.  There was no water on Sunday morning and we had to sing in church.  And by no water, I mean that we hadn't filled out the pitcher to filter it through.  So...plenty of water, none of it potable.  And he said, "You can have the rest of the water, I'll find something else."  Really?  What a guy.  What a sacrifice.  Love him.  My cup is overflowing.  :)

Today equals 36 weeks.  He's completely viable from here on out.  He's fully formed, just getting fatter and more developed.  Fingernails and hair and finishing touches on his little skin and his liver and lungs.  The wait to see him is getting harder, because he's never let us see his face.  So we have no idea who or what he looks like.  While all of my friends were looking at smushed noses and tiny toes, we were looking at arms and elbows.  Oh, and his penis.  Which he promptly displayed every time we came to see him.

Thursday is our next appointment.  I was having contractions yesterday- but they were on average 20 minutes apart, so no harm done.  The doctor's office measures our weeks on Fridays, so we're a little ahead.  I go by my period, they go by the size of the baby.  Both are right.  He'll come when he wants to :)  I love him :)

It was cold enough this morning to justify a light jacket.  I'm not sure, but I think I remember this fitting me last year...

A Sweet Surprise

Since it will be our 3 year anniversary on Wednesday, September 12th, Andy and I decided to celebrate on Saturday evening (since he works retail, he has to work over night on our actual anniversary...bummer.)  Here we are, three years ago:

 

 

I seriously don't know who those puppies are in that picture.  Truth is, that's not actually my husband and I.  I just copied and pasted those pics from a random clip art page.  ...or that's how it seems anyway.  With everything that we've been through in the past few years, I feel more grown up than most people married for three years.

 

Oh, and as an added bonus?  September 7th marked our 10 year anniversary as a couple.  So check out THIS picture:

 

 

 

This was only the second time Andy and I had ever met.  See my ring around his neck?  He wore it all the time, until it was frayed.  It's still around!  Somewhere...

 

So we went to this really amazing place called FENZ, and I had meatloaf and mac and cheese.  Yeah, at this five star dining establishment.  But it was wildly amazing.  And this very attractive lady was a table away from us, which I didn't think about more than, "Wow, she's very attractive."  And she came up to me and said, "YOU are a very beautiful pregnant lady."

 

I was literally in tears.

 

My husband said, "I tell you that every day!"  I said, "But from a stranger, somehow it's different."  What a lovely gesture that I hope to pass on someday.  I love random acts of kindness.  Especially when they're directed at me :)  That was my sweet surprise.

 

It's funny how words can help or hurt.  I was at a 31 Party on Thursday of last week and one of the ladies had their chair out a little far.  I said, politely, "Can you excuse me?  I need to inch by you here."  And you know what she said, "Honey, have you looked in the mirror lately?  You're not inching anywhere."  Mmhhmm.  To which her daughter smartly replied, "Mom, have YOU looked in the mirror lately?"  Wow, just so rude of that women!  Just move your chair, for goodness sakes.  There's not a person in the room who doesn't know I'm pregnant!

 

Same party.  Different woman.  "Oh my sister tore so badly!  She tore from her vagina right to her ass hole!"  Seriously?  That was something you NEEDED to say.  And it didn't scare me, but it was vulgar and crass and just unnecessary.  The party lady, who I am good friends with, just sort of gave me this cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and I soon left.

 

Words are insane.  Use yours wisely.  I know I'll be using mine.

The Situation.

When you get pregnant, everyone is up in your business.  Everyone wants to be "in the know."  And nobody is discreet about it.

So when Andy and I decided that we were going to keep the name a secret, it was a no brainer.  FINALLY.  Something was ours to know and NOBODY elses.

Until he dropped it in front of my family on Father's Day.  Yeeeaaaahhhh.  Glad it was him and not me.

So anyway.  Because the thought of my mom dad and sister knowing, and his parents not knowing just frustrated him, we made the choice to tell them.  It was a joint decision.  I wasn't angry.  I think Andy was angrier than I was that he make such a rookie mistake, but we all lived.

Wow.  This blog entry is very incriminating.

So we asked my parents to please act surprised when we told them as a group.  Which they did.  Actually, really well.

And his parents didn't really act surprised- didn't really act any which way at all!  Did they know it was all a hoax??  Were they on to our big scheme?!?!

Nah, probably not.  But.  Then it began.  Same thing as when we first announced we were pregnant: 

"Who can we tell?"
Nobody.
"But, but WHO can we tell?"
Um, NObody.
"But if we WERE to tell someone, who could that be?"
Wow.  Is this complicated?  Nobody means...nobody.

And then the world knew.  The MIL was telling everyone she knew.  People in the supermarket that she DIDN'T know.  People she KIND OF knew.  People she'd LIKE to know.  They all knew we were pregnant.

My mom started up, "Why is SHE allowed to tell people?"
She's not.
"But why is she telling people?"
Because she doesn't respect us enough to shut her mouth.
"Who can I tell?"
Nobody.
"But..."
No.  Body.

So we tell them the name.  And in the same fashion, she starts again:

"Can I tell your brother?"
No, I'd like to tell him myself.

BIL comes- knows the name.  He tells us it's bad-@$$ and he likes it.
Thanks for the vote but...we wanted to tell.

And then comes the phone call.  Two of them- BIL and MIL, in perfect harmony:
"CAN WE TELL ROB!?"

To say that my husband was furious was an absolute understatement.

"BUT HE'S LIKE FAMILY!!!"  They proclaimed.

I was proud of the Handsome Man I Married.  He kept his cool.  Even when they shoved the phone in Rob's hands, stating, "FINE!  You tell him."  He didn't even break a sweat.  Ultimately Rob understood and was feeling equally as awkward.

So the moral of the story is...well, there is no moral.  Some people are not to be trusted.  Sometimes you have to guard your heart- because nobody is going to do it for you.

35 weeks, and a little something extra...

See that little beauty?  That's Little Miss Olivia Elizabeth.  Lauren had her baby!  After about 24 hours, Olivia made her way into the world via c-section, and we all rejoiced at her coming.  However today, I'm sad because every week since the beginning of our pregnancies, Lauren has wished me happy "one more week"...and today she did not wish me one.  Perhaps she's preoccupied?  ; )

We think that Liv is either a) frustrated from the ordeal she just went through after being labored for more than a day and then just being taken c-section or b) mad because she has to wear that stupid hat.  It's any one's guess.

My sweet boy is 35 weeks today.  How come I feel like the even weeks are more impressive than the odd ones?  I say 35 weeks with shame, but 34?  Now THAT'S a week worth shouting from the rooftops.  Tomorrow is my checkup, and then every week until the big day.

I'd like to say that I'm prepared for labor.  I've been through the classes.  I practice my breathing and my yoga ball and Andy knows all the right positions and what to say and not to say.  I'd like to say that I've been through all the scenarios, and I understand how to deal with the pain.  But I also know that it's nothing that I could ever imagine.

Andy and I made great strides a few weeks ago when he said to me in all sincerity- I respect your decision to have or not have an epidural.  Before this his tune was, "You're going to get one.  Just get one.  Everyone I've talked to had one.  Just get one."  And now suddenly he's supporting me.  Now let me make it clear- I'm not saying "no" to drugs.  I am saying "yes" to being in control of my labor.  I want to feel what women have been feeling for centuries.  It's my right of passage.  It's my turn to write a war story.

And speaking of husband- mine is being INCREDIBLE lately.  In fact, when Lauren was in about hour 12 of labor, I wanted him to go to her and help her through those last few centimeters of dilation and get that baby out.  He took this picture of me:

And then he told me I looked really beautiful in it.  I'm exhausted and sweaty and have stuff spilled all over my belly...but I looked really beautiful to him.  In fact, at the even we were at when he took that picture, I couldn't scoot my chair in any more, so everyone at the table scooted the table toward me.

I woke up last night to his hand on my belly.  Just like a father/protector.  He LOVES his son. 

Eh, I guess 35 weeks isn't so mundane after all.

Rolling a spare...

This is what I feel is in my uterus at the moment.

I went to my doctor's appointment on Friday and I asked her to feel around in there for where he was situated.  She says, "Hmmm, I can't find his head!"  And I say, "Well, he had one last week..."  Because see, I knew he was working on some sort of maneuver last week, and I too could not find his head.

Because it was in my PELVIS already.

He's moving on down!  Which hopefully means he's moving on OUT at some point.  But not THIS point.  He still has at least four more weeks until he can officially come.  I mean, he can come whenever he wants...but I'd like him to wait.

I'm up 16 lbs since the beginning.  His heart rate is beautiful, and my blood pressure is even and holding low.  I'm one happy momma :)

Except, it kind of feels like I've been riding a horse for many days.  My back hurts like mad.
--
I wanted to share these pictures.  They are our only family pictures since I've been pregnant, and I love them all :)

 

The I "heart" Mom shirts were an Old Navy special a few years back.  My sister and I have worn them every Mother's Day and Mom's birthday since we bought them.  I was either in high school or college at the time...it's a tradition :)

 

Love my fam :)

The chair has the floor...

Well this past week has been a trip.  BIL was here.  And you know how when someone says, "I'm coming to visit you" and you reply, "This week REALLY isn't good" and then they come anyway?  Yeah, it's been one of those weeks.  He's 24.  Always keep that in mind.

He arrived, toting enough clothing to last him a month (and he was only staying a few days...) and he also had a huge box, which turned out to be containing our high chair...which was very nice of him.  And then it began:

"Can I put together the high chair?"

No.

"What if you mom helps me?"

No.

"Why not?"

Because there's no place to put it right now, and he can't use it until he sits up anyway.  Besides, we don't want to cats all over it, and we'd like to keep it nice for another few months.  When he's ready to use it, we'll have you help us set it up.

"But me helping to set it up was part of the gift."

And we're so thankful!  But right now, we're not going to set it up.
---
So on Tuesday night, my dad took us ALL out to Mount Gretna to The Timbers to see the show and eat dinner for my mom's birthday.  I knew it was a large expense for my father to do this for six people.  I ate like a HORSE.  I think I forgot to breathe in between bites, but they had fruit salad with MANGO in it!  MANGO, people.  That's big.  So three bowls of that later...I have a happy tummy and a REALLY happy baby.

What did BIL do all night?  Text.  He text at the table.  He text while we were eating.  He text while he was walking up to the food line.  He text during dessert.  He text up until the point the shower started.  He text during intermission.  I was ready to throw the stupid iPhone in the toilet and flush repeatedly.  That's a special type of rude, when someone else pays for your meal AND show.

So I get home from work on Wednesday, he's there with my mom.  Because she was sitting him for us during the day- aka, paying his way into stuff to keep him occupied- and it begins again.

"Well, I really want to put the high chair together."

No, I don't really want it put together.

"Well, I asked Andy earlier and he said the same thing!"

Yeah, I'm sure we want to keep it in the box right now because we have no plae to put it and we don't want the cats on it and he won't need it for a few more months.

"But the box is taking up more room than the actual chair!"

That's not really the point.  The point is we do not want it dirty.  And Andy wants to play daddy and put things together for his son.  You can put it together next time you are down.

"But that's going to be when the baby is born!"

Yep, and he's STILL not going to need it then either.
---
Andy leaves for work on Wednesday and begrudgingly calls his mom to talk on the way.

"Your brother said you're not allowing him to set up the chair."

No, mom, we're not ready for it yet.

"But Andy he's excited.  Let him set up the chair."

No mom, we really don't have the room for it, and we want to keep it clean and we don't want the cats on it.

(silence)
---

The chair is still in the box.  Where it will stay.  Until the baby is old enough to sit in it.