Announcement

As of today, all references to Baby Q will now be Z. Because really that's what I use as his written nickname more than anything else any ways, and he's growing up so quickly, Z will be easier to refer to. Just an FYI for those who are confused as to where this new child suddenly sprang from.

7 Quick Takes (vol. 28)

#1 - One month old today. How in the world has it been a month since Baby Q was born? What happened to February? I'm serious, folks; I'm missing a month of my life!

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#2 - So in three days, my APs will be here for three weeks! Very, very excited. They've never been to our new home or seen our new job or any of this. Blueberry has been counting down the days with me for the last few weeks. She keeps talking about "Nana Papa fly airplane. Come see me. See my toys. See my room." Oh yes, this is going to be fun!

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 #3 -What is there to say?

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#4 -  Philosophical question: If someone has a vision or dream they see as coming from God, but that vision/dream clashes with another person's vision/dream they see as coming from God, how do you figure out who's vision is correct? And how do you explain to someone that they are so focused on their vision that they are in danger of losing the foundation for that vision because they're spending so much time focused on the future that they are failing to see what is happening now?

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#5 - My birthday was this week. Didn't do much for it; we were working and, as I told Chris, the bad thing about birthdays when you get older is that if you really want something for your birthday, you tend to have to do it yourself! I didn't want much....

Chris bought me a video game for my birthday. Now, this may not sound like much of a present, but as he explained it to me before showing me the game, it's about the experience. I will admit, I am an on-again/off-again gamer. I enjoy my share of video games; certain ones. But I can easily go months without picking up anything. I've been in a definite no-gaming mode lately, so when he said he had got me a game for my birthday, I was a little suspect. But it shows how much he knows me. He was right. This game, called Journey, really is an experience. The music is beautiful; the art work is beautiful. Its relatively simplistic in play, and really not very long at all, but incredible to play. Nothing really scary, but there are moments when you're completely tense. And it truly has one of the best endings of any game. Ever. It was a good present. He done good.

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#6 - Story of another present I recently received from my husband. For Valentine's day, he did a great job planning ahead. I did not. We got to Valentine's day this year, and I was like, "Oh, it's Valentine's Day. Um....I love you. That's as good as it gets today!" I thought he hadn't done a whole lot either, until I got a box of roses in the mail.

He ordered me 24 roses from ProFlower--which we've used in the past and normally is fantastic quality/service. Well, the only problem with the order (and the roses were gorgeous) was that only 12 roses came. And a vase. So he called the company and they wound up refunding a large part of the money and apologizing for screwing up his order. And hey, I still got 12 roses out of the deal.

Well, ProFlower has a 7-day warranty on their flowers. i.e. They will last at least 7 days before beginning to die. By day 3, my roses were already beginning to look a little sad. Day 5 I emailed the company to complain. They offered me a full refund or they would send a replacement order. I decided I wanted the flowers. And I had them schedule them to arrive on my birthday.

Well, imagine my surprise when I got the new flower box on my birthday and opened it up and discovered not 12, but 24 replacement roses inside! So for less than the price of 12 roses, we got 36 out of the deal. And these 24 are absolutely gorgeous quality.

Very happy with my Valentine's/Birthday roses!

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#7 - Epic parenting moment. My daughter. 7:30am Friday morning. Having eaten birthday-cake pancakes for breakfast, she helped to lick out the bowl for the actual birthday cake (not mine, one of the girl's--Reese's peanut butter cake with peanut butter frosting. I've been told it tasted fabulous. I have no idea because I couldn't eat any of it!).

The question is was this an Epic Fail or Epic Win parenting moment?!

Baby Q Birth Story

When considering when and how to write this down, the first question I had to ask myself was at what point do I start? Since I have these two posts already:

Prodromal Labor and Three Days Past the "Expected" Date

41 Weeks and Contractions Continue

I guess I'll start where I left off.

The last day I wrote was Tuesday the 5th of February. Wednesday and Thursday crawled by. The thought that was beginning to really consume my mind was what happens if I get to 42 weeks? At that point, I knew I'd have to go for a biophysical profile at a hospital and get an OB/GYN to sign off on waiting any longer without induction. If no one would sign off, then I would have to make the choice of having a very medical birth in a hospital or going against medical advice. Neither of which options sounded appealing to me.

Wednesday night I got a bit of a mind refocus and that was due to the fact that we were informed that our Butterfly was leaving permanently (at least theoretical permanence) to go with family. Departure: Friday morning. So Thursday Chris and I spent a couple of hours packing up Butterfly's room, sorting through what belonged to the cottage and what belonged to her. That night we spent some time with her saying goodbye--which was hard. She has been a challenge to have in the cottage, just due to her age, but she is a darling little girl and such a good friend for Blueberry, saying goodbye was not easy.

I did notice what felt like an upsurge in the intensity of contractions during the day Thursday. However, I really didn't pay it much mind as at that point it had become hard to tell if I was just exhausted and feeling it more or if it was legitimately more intense.

Thursday night I had a really hard time sleeping, even with my nightly rituals of bath, Benadryl, etc. But I woke up Friday morning about the same as every other of the past 10 days. Still contracting regularly, and still not delivering a baby!

Around noon, Chris decided to go to the store with Blueberry. We had necessities we were running out of. He went out and got our mail, I helped get  Blueberry ready to go out and lay down to take a nap. I lay down before they were even gone, and popped up about 10 minutes later, hungry and unable to fall asleep. I went to the kitchen, heated up some leftovers, and noticed a package sitting on the counter.

Hillery had told me she had put something in the mail for me, so I opened it up, and found chocolate (yum!), an encouraging note, and two essential oils, one of which is Clary Sage which is supposed to help induce labor. She had sent me some links via email, so I snagged my bowl of food, brought the oils to the table, and sat down to check the links and see how to use the Clary Sage.

I literally had just fully sat down in the chair when I felt the oddest sensation of gushing wet. My first thought--did I just pee myself? My second though--Oh my word, I think my water just broke. I popped up right away and waddled my way down to the bathroom. The continuing gushes of water along the way confirming for me that I had not just completely lost control of my bladder but that something else was happening here.

Now I will admit, the scariest moment for me was sitting down and using the toilet and realizing that the water coming out was not the clear amniotic fluid one wants to see when one's water breaks, but a wierd green/black mix. I've read enough about post-expected babies to know that this is a sign that the baby has pooped in the water and that could be a problem.

Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to grab my cellphone as I had hurried down the hallway, so the first call I made was to Chris. The conversation went something like this (keep in mind, he's barely 10 minutes out of the house): "Hello?" Me--"My water just broke." Him--giant pause--"Um, so now what?" Me--"Can you come home now, please?" Him--with a sound of relief for getting a direct order on what to do at this point--"On my way!"

Next phone call, my midwife. We had talked earlier that morning about what would occur at 42 weeks and also how I was feeling. I had mentioned feeling like the contractions were harder but being unsure given the last 10 days of my life. She had said to just let her know if anything changed, and to give her as much heads-up as possible as she was in Conway for the day with clients there (an hour and a half away).

The first question she had for me was about if my contractions had increased. I told her no, I hadn't had a single contraction since my water broke (I realization I just had when she asked me that). We then had a brief discussion about the color of the water, which she requested a picture of (really, pregnancy has no bounds on privacy, and thank the Lord for cellphones with cameras that allow for picture texting). About one minute later, the first contraction hit. And it was hard. Double or triple the intensity of what I'd been dealing with for the last 10 days. I told Shea what was going on. She instructed to time the contractions for half an hour, she was going to finish up with her current client, and call me back and see what was happening.

Around that time, Christopher got home with Blueberry. By that point, I was standing up, breathing through contractions which were coming rapidly. I gave some very terse instructions regarding grabbing her bag and dropping her off with friends on campus, and to please hurry! By the time he had snagged her stuff, dropped her off, and gotten back (maybe 10 minutes?), I was no longer standing up through contractions but bending over, holding on to the bathroom counter for dear life.

Right at that time, Shea called back, and he quickly updated her on the increase that had occurred even since he had returned home. We made the decision to move out to Barbara's house again, and she was going to drive straight back and be there as fast as she could. Fortunately, Barbara herself was in town, and so she was going to meet us at the house.

The 15 minutes it took us to get loaded into the car and to Barbara's house was miserable. I'd forgotten how dang uncomfortable contractions in a car are. Those seats are at the worst possible angle ever! It was a relief to pull up to Barbara's house (although, for my sake, we parked at the back of the house which meant I didn't have to go up 15+ stairs to get into the house, but did require a rather bumpy drive up her non-paved back driveway). Barbara herself arrived just behind us as Chris was opening the house up.

I remember walking up the two steps to the house, avoiding the tree root along the way. The back door opens straight into what is the bedroom/morning room. It's a beautiful room with windows on three sides, that looks straight into the woods. The bed was already down (it's one of those beds that can be lifted up flush to the wall), which was fortunate because the only thing I wanted to do at that point was to bend over something during contractions.

Chris was busy getting some stuff into the house, and I remember getting on my knees and just breathing through the contractions with my head buried in the bed as my arms supported the rest of me. Barbara started doing her thing--taking my blood pressure, babies heart rate, etc. We talked briefly about the color of the amniotic fluid, and she said that we would know what to do as soon as he was born, but that right now, his heart rate was good, and to not stress about it.

After that, things get blurry. I spent the next few hours either kneeling on the floor (which someone fortunately had the presence of mind to put some cushions under my knees--mind you, I still had bruised shins for several days), kneeling on the bed (much more comfortable), or holding on to Chris as I was in the bathroom.

One thing I knew for certain. Any time Chris left and wasn't there for me to hold on to during a contraction, I got severly annoyed! I couldn't even talk through most of them, but the midwives were smart enough to know that when I was banging my hand against the bed where he was supposed to be, I was wanting my husband there. Poor thing got two bathroom breaks, and maybe a water break! And I was very irritated that he left for those!

Where does your mind go in between focused pain? Well, early on, I knew Chris was texting several people between contractions. I had not quite lost my sense of my humor yet, and told him to text the following message to Hillery:

"Got package. Water broke. Your fault. Labor now."

Interestingly, at least I found it interesting, was how much my mind kept slipping back to Blueberry's birth and some of the negatives of that experience and how (a) different this was and (b) much I didn't want anything to go wrong that would put me back in that situation again. 

Most of the time, it was just blurry. Between contractions, all I wanted to do was rest. Shea would do the occasional check on Baby Q to make sure he was okay. And I remember we did one cervical check early on--gah! I hate those so much. But she wanted to see how far I was dilated; which I had to be careful because I wasn't fully dilated and was having to try to not push so as not to swell my cervix. Which was actually hard not to do. That check was the one time I really was not happy as it flat out hurt. I remember them hurting in the hospital too, so fortunately, I wasn't getting them done every hour or more as they insisted on in the hospital.

I think it was around 4:30 or so that Shea suggested I might want to get in the bath. That was the first real suggestion I was completely on board with. Sadly, the bath took FOREVER to fill up, and when you're that impatient to be getting somewhere, it was rather torturous! To be honest, I had completely lost all sense of the passage of time. I just knew "contracting time" vs "rest time". My back was siezing up again, and the application of hot compresses helped, but I knew that the water was going to be 10 times better, so I pretty much lived through several contractions for the moment I could get into the tub!

And yes, it was wonderful. Contractions are hard, and they certainly didn't get any easier as time went on. But there's something about the feel of the hot water that eased some of the pressure and pain, at least in-between times, and rebalanced me a little bit. 

I don't actually know how long I pushed for. I just remember getting to a point where I knew I had to push, and was pushing. I had backed myself up into the corner of the tub into a full squat, which was about the most comfortable position I could find at the time. At one point, Barbara checked to see where the baby was at, and they realized that he was crowning and about to come out. 

At that point, I was trying to get into a position where I was more fully emersed in the water  or more out of the water. A baby needs to be born either directly into the water or fully out of the water. Once they hit air, their lungs start working, so they can't be part in and out. Well, Baby Q proved a little different there. 

He finally started to emerge, and (I was rather oblivious to all this at this point--fortunately), Shea caught him, but his cord was caught around his shoulder and neck, and he slid out of her hands into the water! Barbara, snagged him, and fortunately he was just fine, but it was a rather tense time for a few minutes, as they quickly did his APGAR test. Breathing was fine, he was a little shell-shocked for a minute and his color wasn't as pink as desired, but that quickly cleared up in the next minute. 

The immediate afterbirth time was so different than the hospital. I still had to deliver the placenta, so I stayed in the bath, and just held Baby Q. He, unlike his sister, was all about the latching on and nursing right away, and in fact, appeared to get a little milk drunk right off the bat. There was no scurrying around to clean him off, weigh him, etc. I just got to hold him and drink him in. 

Finally, Chris took him and I stood up to see if we could get anywhere with the placenta delivery as it just wasn't cooperating. Apparently standing up was the trick. After that it was getting some stitches and then the world's best herbal bath with Baby Q. That's a luxury you don't get in a hospital, and one of the best baths I've ever had. 

Oh, and we squeezed a Facetime call to Blueberry in there as well and introduced her that way to her little brother. She spent the night at a friend's house and was very sleepy by the time we got to talk to her!

I was also starving and thirsty. Draining multiple glasses of Emergen-C, water, and other juices. And scarfing down Kow Dom (Thai rice porridge). Again, very different from what I got at the hospital which was a closed cafateria and a little bit of fruit being all that could be found for me. 

While I was in the bath, Chris was busy making some phone calls. It was about 11:30ish when I was settled into bed and we finally Skyped Baby Q's Nana and Papa in Thailand--anxiously waiting for a call from us for several hours! I do love modern technology--being able to share Baby Q with them so quickly, if not in person, meant so much. I think about how my mom never got to share her babies to my grandparents until months after we were all born--at least this way they get to kind of see him in a more immediate fashion. We also

That night was pure sweetness. No IVs stuck in my arm. No nurses coming in and out to check on me or the baby. Just Christopher, myself, and our little bundle.

Given time to reflect, I have to say that I thoroughly appreciated our experience of home birth. The process of giving birth itself is simply not easy, but there is a definite attitude that comes from the hospital that I did not experience this time around. I felt like I was in control. I was birthing this baby. Not, I was the patient who was a problem who the doctors were in charge of delivering me of my baby. 

The care and love showered on us by our midwives was fantastic. Having the relationship with them that we had completely changed our experience in that way as well. I have trust with them that I never felt with the doctors in the hospital. There I felt like I was so much on the clock that if I wasn't performing correctly (which I didn't with Blueberry), I became a problem. If I wasn't willing to comply with their normal procedures (which I also didn't!), I was even more of a problem. With the midwives, they knew what I wanted; they were there to help provide that. But at the same time, I knew that they are experienced and knowledgeable, and if something had happened, I would have comfortably taken their word for it that we needed help or a procedure needed to be done. 

On the prodromal labor part--I am glad that is over. Interestingly, I really do believe, upon reflection of Blueberry's birth, that if I had done a homebirth with her as well, I would have experienced the same thing. But given that we were in a hospital, I was instead pushed into various interventions to fit their time schedule and expectations. Was 10 days a little long for regular contractions--in some ways yes. But the 6 hour labor at the end of it with no complications was rewarding. 

All in all, I'm proud of myself for sticking with my heart about wanting a home birth experience (if at all possible), and working through the labor and delivery without the benefit of drugs, etc. I have had no postpartum depression with Baby Q. Tiredness, obviously, and some irritability that has come with that. But with Blueberry, I remember some times of just weeping, and feeling like I was in mourning. It took me a long time to emotionally deal with my hospital experience with her. There's been no experience of mourning with Baby Q--just rejoicing. My reflections on the entire time--including the 10 days of craziness--are peaceful and satisfactory. And that is a huge gift.

Baby Q at Last

Five days ago, February 8, 2013, I exchanged 10 days of prodromal labor and its never-ending contractions with 6 hours of full-blown labor and one handsome little man. More to share on his story but for now, we are all well, healthy, recovering, and busy baby-gazing.

41 Weeks and Contractions Continue

It's been a long week. A really long week. Baby Q is still hanging in there, refusing to come out. He had a salsa party the other morning, so he's obviously happy and enjoying himself, which is good. In the meantime, contractions continue pretty regularly.

I have learned more about Prodromal labor than I ever thought I would ever care to know. In the meantime, I do what I can to keep my energy levels up. The emotional side of this is rather draining; the not knowing when this is going to switch from this incessant discomfort/pain to actual labor. Plus the frustration of watching time slip away that I want to be enjoying physically holding and getting to know my baby. It just gets exhausting.

I find I alternate between activity, particularly that which might convince him to make his way out to the rest of the world, and resting/lazying. Mentally it is hard to focus on other things; although, I have done my best to do so.

There has been some unexpected grace given to us by various sources, which has brought a sense of relief in the midst of craziness. After such a relatively simple pregnancy, such an unexpected end has really thrown me. Every gift of support has brought with it a strong sense of gratitude. 

In God's hands. I have nowhere else to place it all.

Prodromal Labor and Three Days Past the "Expected" Date

So the last blog I wrote was last Friday. I spent our three days off continuing to have contractions on again and off again. Monday evening--a few hours before we were scheduled to do passdown with our Relief Houseparents and come back on duty in the cottage again--things began to change. The contractions were coming harder and closer together, I was so tired (which I remember being with Blueberry prior to labor starting), and I couldn't help but think we're going to do passdown and then turn around and hand the cottage straight back again! Well, I wasn't entirely wrong.

We made it through passdown. I went to bed. Woke up around 3:30am, Tuesday, still with constant contractions. Over the last few weeks, sleep would generally quiet down the contractions I was having, so this was different. I finally got up and moved to the couch to try to sleep more if I could. Well things kept going. I started timing. 10 minutes. 7 minutes. 5 minutes. 3 minutes. 3 minutes. 3 minutes. 5 minutes. 3 minutes. And these were long contractions too--at least a minute if not minute and a half to two minutes. I could still talk through most of them if not walk, so I figured we would be okay to at least get the girls up in the morning and get them off to school. But in my heart, this was it! Contractions getting closer and closer together, increasing in intensity...all the signs of labor progressing. Right?

Well, got the girls off to school. Called my midwife and told her what was going on. Set up a plan to drop off Blueberry with another set of houseparents, and headed over to the house we're planning on having Baby Q at. All this time, contractions continue at least every 5 minutes, generally more like 3. Again, i can still talk through most (not all) of them, but as we're doing a home birth (or the closest equivalent we can get to one!), I didn't want to be rushing there at the last minute and trying to settle in a new environment while just trying to focus on birth itself.

We met up with Shea and Barbara (the second midwife who will be there and whose gorgeous house we're using for our birth). We got settled. After awhile, Shea took my vitals and checked on baby. All good. So we settled in to wait for awhile. Well, contractions continued but didn't increase in intensity or speed or anything. I eventually asked Shea to check and see where I was at. She had checked me on Friday due to the contractions I was having then, so we had a baseline to work off of. And unfortunately, I really hadn't progressed despite several days of this and the hours of contractions I'd already been experiencing since Tuesday morning.

She did comment that he was really high still and needed to engage more as that would probably allow the contractions to have more force behind them. We talked about some things I could do to try and get him to engage. Shea and Barbara then left us for awhile so we could just be us. We watched a movie and I did kind of circuit of activity trying to get him to move down and position himself properly.

During all of this, we'd been experiencing a dark and cloudy day--a day that just kept getting darker and cloudier and darker and cloudier....and the rain started in. Ominous was the word I kept thinking about the clouds.

Several hours later, contractions still continued, with an increase in intensity. I found I couldn't stand the movie anymore, and was just focused on contractions. I really couldn't move at all through them anymore and while I could grunt out a response if I needed to, that was it as far as talking went.

In the meantime, the rain was pouring and the wind was howling. Tornado warning apparently (which we didn't find out about until it was about over), which sent my sister (who had driven down that day from Springfield to be with Blueberry for us) and Blueberry scurrying to the shelter with the rest of the campus. Branches falling down. Craziness.

Shea came back and checked my progress again. Minor. Two hours and maybe one centimeter. He was, however, a little lower, which was good. But still discouraging. I wound up taking a bath and a benadryl and going to bed. As the storm had mostly died off at this point, it was a little less dramatic at least (the room the bed is in is surrounded on three sides by windows). I slept off and on all night--waking up every half hour or so with continued contractions.

The next morning, Wednesday, I got up and started moving around. Contractions didn't feel quite as strong as they had. They hadn't stopped by any means, but they were just not as regular or intense. After we were all up and moving, Shea checked again. I had dilated another centimeter and a half or so overnight. At this point I was facing having had non-stop contractions for over 24 hours and that was all the progress I had. A more engaged baby, 4ish centimeters, and not being fully effaced. Not nice!

After talking it over, Shea suggested we go home for awhile. Hang out with Blueberry and my sister. Maybe talk a walk. See what happens. So we went home. I wound up crashing for another hour at home, and then we went to the mall and walked around for a few hours. Finally said goodbye to Blueberry and Joy, and drove back to our birth house. My hips were hurting from walking, so I took a bath to relax. Dozed off a little bit in the bath. Contractions had picked up again and even increased in intensity. But unfortunately when Shea checked my progress, she determined I was actually closer to a 3 than a 4 and I had no more effacing than before. Talk about discouragement.

On a good note, all my vitals were showing normal and healthy. Baby is active as ever with a very regular heartbeat. And he is definitely lower than he was. 

Shea finally told us I am in Prodromal labor. A term I'd never heard of before. Kind of prelabor but not just Braxton Hicks. We finally decided to just go home. Be with Blueberry. My prescription--rest and relax and try to eat and stay hydrated and wait for active labor to kick in. I will fully admit to some tears of frustration and discouragement. Along with feeling annoyed that I could have contractions this frequently, this hard, and it not be going the way it "should be". Go figure--classic labor is yet another medical term that prescribes everyone into the same basic scenario and leaves little allowance for those of us who apparently like to take our own paths to labor.

I will admit, I'm glad to be in the hands of a midwife and not a doctor right now. Being right at that 4 cm mark Wednesday, I very well could have been looking at not being sent home by the hospital but kept and having the interventions started on--water breaking, pitocin, that whole scenario that I don't want if I don't have to have.

I have held on to that thought the last day and a half. It is now Friday morning. Contractions continue. They've abated in intensity a little most mornings, but have yet to go away fully. Then they pick up again in the afternoon and all through the night. Still very consistent in timing and length. Consistent enough that if it wasn't for the fact that there is not a major significant increase in intensity (although they are intense enough as is for going on for days and days, thank you very much), I'd be thinking I was in full blown, active labor. I'm not working; just trying to focus on me, my Baby Q, Chris, and little Miss Blueberry who did very well with all the randomness but definitely was missing us and was a major cuddle bug all yesterday afternoon.

The biggest struggle is resting enough (its hard to sleep well when contractions keep waking you up) and eating. My appetite did come back last night for awhile, which I took full advantage of. Currently not hungry again and indeed feel the faint strains of nausea niggling at me. Just keep reminding myself that I need energy and strength for when we do finally get to le grande finale.

I spent much of yesterday reading up on Prodromal Labor. I probably ran across the term in my pregnancy readings of either Blueberry or Baby Q, but it wasn't one I was remembering. Apparently it is a lot more common than I would have ever realized.

Frequently doctors often refer to it as "false labor"--which I think is very unfair and even a little insulting. If i had gone to the hospital over the last few weeks with some of the contractions I had felt which had died down, I could understand the term "false labor." But this. This is not false. This does not go away with a simple change in activity or drinking enough water. It is exhausting and very real. The intensity may die down some at certain times before picking back up again, but its not something you can just ignore. These are the same contractions I felt when I was heading to the hospital to have my Blueberry. They just aren't increasing in intensity--just keeping up a long, drawn out state of discomfort and/or pain.

I have no idea where I'm at cervically. The good thing about this kind of labor is that it can continue to work towards dilation and effacement. And there is a theory that it can lead to short full blown labors when that time comes--we'll see if that holds true!

In the meantime, I do my best to stay positive and not allow myself to get discouraged. There are times I, admittedly, really have struggled with that. I'm active as I can be while trying to not allow myself to get exhausted. Went on a walk Thursday morning with Joy before she left; got her addicted to a few of the stores we have here. I'm trying to cherish these precious days with my Blueberry before she becomes the big sister and not the only child.

There are a thousand other questions and concerns that try to wear down my brain and I do my best to refuse them entry.

We will see what this day holds.

For those who want a really description of this whole Prodromal labor thing, I think this is the best summary I've read of it: Prodromal Labor: What Is It?. There's a lot of information out there when you know what you're looking for, but I just like the description and perspective of what's going on from this particular link. Plus the links at the end of the article to Prodromal Labor stories are really interesting as well.

Waiting and Living

Well, between the nesting, the nausea, the bursts of energy followed by tiredness, all bundled up together with the bouts of contractions that seem like they're about to go somewhere and then just stop...I've decided Baby Q is a tease.

Its funny. With Blueberry, I was not actually ready for her to come when I went into labor. With Baby Q I'm pretty much begging him to come on out! A large part of that really has been this never ending stream of contractions; long enough and heavy enough to get my hopes up, and then dying off into nothingness. Again. And again. And again. For several weeks now. Bah!

We go off duty again tonight. Its been a month of crazy shifts with lots of comings and goings. Our little Butterfly is being prepped to return to her mom--successfully this time, i hope. And Wednesday night we found out that our Squirrel is being reunited with some family as well...Today! Nothing like a bit of last minute packing up of a child to keep you busy in an already busy week.

As I write this, Squirrel and Blueberry are holding Doggie a funeral. They've built him a bier and are now crashing on the piano, playing him a song. He apparently died from losing all of his teeth. Sigh. Blueberry is going to be missing both these little girls quite a bit. Admittedly, I will too. Mind you, the lower numbers in the cottage, however temporary, will be a blessing during this transition period.

I finally got my sign off from the nurse practitioner at the health clinic in town--a sign off needed saying I'm still a good candidate for home birth. Not my favorite lady in the world. I about laughed in her face when I went in to see her the other day and she inquired about swelling of my ankles while closely observing my then very swollen ankles. I admit to a little bit of snarkiness when I told her that I've had minimum swelling this whole pregnancy, but having sat for THREE HOURS in the waiting room for the appointment, yes, my ankles had swollen! I just love government health care.

I think my biggest issue has been the carpal tunnel syndrome I've had in my wrists this pregnancy. Driving me crazy! I had some with Blueberry but its been much worse this time. Which is odd as the amount of time I'm on the computer now is far less than it was when I was pregnant with Blueberry.

Anyhoo...that's the general update. Soon and very soon....this little man has to come out!

Thanksgiving, Zoos, and Other Randomness

Two of our girls were home all day today and yesterday with sickness: one with the flu and the other with pneumonia of all things. I swear we've gone through more boxes of tissues and bottles of cough medicine in the last few weeks than I would have thought possible. Amazingly enough (say a prayer, knock on wood), other than a slight stuffiness and a few tired days, I've been the one person in the house to not wind up with a cough, major cold, strep, or anything else nasty that's been making its way through the cottage the last few weeks.

In that vein, Thanksgiving week wound up being a bit unexpected for us. We were planning to have three or four of our girls here with us (the rest were with family and/or visits with host families), but they wound up closing our cottage down for a few days and putting our girls in another cottage (less holiday pay the company has to worry about...). As it was, we wound up with Butterfly staying with us in the evenings (for stability purposes for her) but no girls otherwise! We did have two of the girls who were left over to play games on Thanksgiving day itself, but otherwise it was just the 3.5 of us.

It was nice as it actually gave us some extra days off to recover (and decorate for Christmas!). Our Thanksgiving meal we actually shared with a bunch of other people on campus who were here (other houseparents, residents, some relatives, etc), which gave us a sort of family feel. With the new director and some new staff on campus, I'm finding more and more the feeling of family being established here on campus--something I'm very grateful for.

Saturday we took Mama Bear with us to Little Rock and went to the zoo. That was a blast. We hadn't been in quite awhile, and Blueberry has grown up so much since the last time we went. She had a grand time with all the animals and has talked about it daily since then (the scary, loud monkeys; the tiger go "rawr"; "I saw cheetah/lizard/snake/turtle/fishie"; and of course "Giraffe poopies.").

 Scary Crazy Monkey

 My Russian Princess

 The notorious Giraffe

Her first "train" ride. Also went on a carousel for the first time!

She also enjoyed decorating for Christmas that night (busy day for her!) and took great pleasure in showing Butterfly all the decorations (and showing her how too look with her eyes and not with her hands...those two crack me up).

In other Blueberry news, she informed me last night that she wanted to sleep on the futon that is in her room and until now has been working as a temporary training bed for her. While she slept in "beds" on the floor in England and quite enjoyed it, when we got back here, she was clear about wanting to mostly still sleep in her crib. Since we have the futon (and have stuck a swimming noodle down the open side of it to prevent her from rolling out--great idea, thank you Pinterest!), we would offer her the choice of crib or bed, but she generally stuck with her crib as her choice. Last night was the first time she wanted the futon at night. She slept all night on it and then at nap time today she asked for it again. I think my baby just transitioned herself to a "big girl bed!"

We are now debating the merits of selling the futon and buying a toddler bed for the room. At some point we're going to need the crib again as a crib (it can actually be converted into a toddler bed), but the question is do we go ahead and do it now and keep the crib as a crib or do we wait a few months and deal with it as time requires. Ah the questions that come with having a baby!

 Baby Q continues to do well and is very lively. Freaked some of the girls out the other night as we were watching a movie and all of the sudden one of them realized she could actually see my stomach moving on its own. Highly entertaining.

Slowly all the pieces come together in preparation for his arrival. The biggest question for awhile was where were we even going to have him! I've been planning for a home birth from the beginning with him, but as we live on company property, we figured we needed to run it by the director for his okay. Well, he's okay with it conceptually, but the lawyer is not okay with it in terms of insurance companies and other craziness. So the long and short of it was that I suddenly found myself planning for a home birth but not being able to give birth at home!  In an overly dramatic, pregnant, hormonal moment I told Chris that I'd just go across the street to the gas station and give birth there....

Well my midwife actually came to the rescue... She works with two other midwives (there's always at least two of them at each birth) and the longest-practicing of the three happens to be the owner of two fully-furnished houses (she got married just a few years ago to a man who owned his own house--they're both in their early 60s, and I guess they just kind of switch between houses every week). So she is going to let us "borrow" one of her houses to give birth in...and it only happens to be about a 5-10 minute drive down the road. And being a midwife she's really excited about the prospect as she's never actually had a baby born in her own house before! Phew.