Grandma

Grandma is coming today!  Not mine, obviously, but Colin's, and I don't know who is more excited: me or Grandma.  

Joe was lucky enough to get three weeks off of work, so today is his first day back since Colin was born.  Which meant last night was my first night of dealing with baby care all on my own while Joe got to sleep.  Naturally, it was also the first night that the baby wasn't content just to be changed and nurse and fall back asleep but instead was awake for an hour and a half getting changed and nursing and being gassy and wanting to be held and then nursing again.  And then woke up an hour and a half later. And then woke up two hours after that for the day.  Joy!

The good news is I have already showered and had breakfast and nursed (again) and Colin is sleeping in his bouncy seat and I am enjoying some coffee and catching up with the internets and generally holding my breath that he'll be out for a bit.

My mom gets in this afternoon and since I'm cleared to drive again Colin and I will be braving a car ride on our own to go pick her up at the airport.  She's staying until Saturday and then Joe's mom gets in to stay with us next week.  I'm simultaneously thrilled to have the help and dreading having family here for two weeks straight.  But currently thrilled is winning out, so three cheers for grandparents, right?

This weekend we took a chance on getting out of the house and took Colin to a get-together at our friends' house.  And by get-together I mean beer pong tournament, but it was during the day and I didn't partake so don't go calling child services on me yet.  After he screamed for half of the car ride there we were sure it was going to be a short-lived visit, but he ended up being so good we stayed for 6 hours.  He slept, and nursed and then was content to just be held and look around.  There were other babies there, but they were 6 months old and looked enormous compared to Colin.  And since the other babies were way more alert and active no one even asked to hold Colin so he pretty much slept in the swing or hung out on my lap on the couch the whole time while I talked to a pregnant girl about her pregnancy and a couple of engaged girls about their wedding plans.  Such a girly day, it was awesome.

Also, Joe just called and said it was really hard not to pick Colin up to say good bye before he left for work this morning.  Awww.  And at the same time: oh my god don't you dare pick him up when he and I are sleeping!  

Colin's Birth Story

I finally have a minute to type this up, but I'm sure it will be ridiculously verbose, so bear with me.

The Sunday before Colin was born I was one day past my due date and made Joe take me to our favorite pizza place for dinner.  Within an hour of getting home I started feeling some cramping in my lower back.  We watched a movie and I noticed that the pain persisted all night, coming and going but not really hurting and not getting any closer together.  Either way I was hopeful and excited to see what would happen in the morning.

I woke up around 2 am Monday morning and lost (part of) my mucous plug.  Which looked pretty much exactly how I thought it would.  Ick.  But hey, progress!  Sometime around 4 am I told Joe he should probably call in to work and let them know he'd be staying home, since the cramping was still sticking around and occasionally was even kind of painful.  First thing in the morning we got up and took a walk to see if anything would progress.  The cramps continued but didn't seem to get worse or closer together or anything.  We came home and took a nap, and then took another walk.  This is where I got sort of dumb.

I kept thinking to myself that this was might not be 'it' so in order to be sure I kept moving all day and not really resting.  I had heard that walking or moving around starts things going, whereas resting might make the contractions stop.  I so desperately wanted to be in active labor that I kept cleaning the house and baking banana bread and doing laundry when in hindsight I would have been much better off getting some rest while I still could.

Around 6pm Monday we went for another short walk before dinner and ran into our ne

ighbor.  His wife was due the day before me and apparently had her baby two weeks early.  This, of course, made me all the more determined to keep moving to make sure this would be my night.  Around 8pm the contractions started becoming more frequent and around 9 I told Joe to go ahead and time them.  At that point they were just about 5 minutes apart, lasting just under a minute, but weren't exactly regular.  My midwife told me to stay at home as long as possible if I didn't want interventions, so we stayed.

Throughout the day I'd been losing more and more mucous and at one point even lost another huge disgusting chunk like I had in the middle of the night.  All of these signs were encouraging, but also slightly disgusting, so I wore a pad all day.  Thus while sitting in bed at 10pm and discussing with Joe for the umpteenth time when I thought we should call the hospital, when I felt a slight gush I assumed it was just more mucous.  I even checked to see if it was my water breaking, but other than the one big leak there was nothing else.  Meanwhile the contractions were starting to require my actual attention.  I leaned on the exercise ball, had Joe apply pressure to my back, repeatedly warmed up my heating pad, and focused on taking deep breaths.  At 10:30 I put on a tivo'd Family Guy episode and Joe fell asleep on the couch while I sat on the birthing ball thinking positive dilation thoughts.

Finally at 11:30 I called the hospital and they told me to come in.  Joe asked if I was sure I wanted to go, since it was probably still going to be a long time before anything happened.  I told him I didn't really think I'd be all that dilated, but if they sent us home maybe they'd give me something so I could sleep.  It was at this point that I started thinking maybe I should have napped more during the day.

The ride to the hospital was cold.  I sat against my heating pad but I was shaking and my teeth chattered the first half of the way there.  Every bump Joe hit made the contractions that much more painful and I kept begging for him to slow down just to make the ride more pleasant. 

We arrived to a quiet Labor and Deliver floor at 12:30 am on Tuesday.  I was expecting to be checked immediately but first they wanted to monitor my contractions for half an hour.  I was hooked up to the monitors and left shivering cold and moaning with each contraction in my lower back praying for them to just check me already.  The on call doctor came in to check me and said that I was having contractions but they weren't lasting all that long and were fairly irregular.  And then she said exactly what I was hoping not to hear: I was 1 centimeter dilated.  At that point I'd been having contractions in my back for almost 30 hours.  On a whim, they decided to check my fluid and found out that "hey, your water broke, so change of plans: you're staying."

I was just happy at that point that I'd get to stay and hopefully sleep, but they told me they didn't like to give epidurals until patients were 4 cm.  They started pitocin around 1:30 am and I had Joe turn on a Jim Gaffigan routine so I'd have something to take my mind off the pain.  Around 2:30am they decided to give me internal monitors since they couldn't really get a read on my contractions.  I was still at 1 cm and writhing in pain as contractions moved steadily from my back to my front and back again without a break in between.  The nurse told me to tell her when a contraction started and ended so she could get a baseline.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: here comes one.  Owwww.  (breathing, moaning)

Nurse: ok, and it's done?

Me: No. (moaning)

Nurse: How about now?

Me: No. (deep breathing, shaking)

Nurse: are you sure?

Me: um, it's still painful and hasn't stopped yet.  Unless I'm confused as to what a contraction is it's still going.

Suddenly several doctors and nurses came in at once and started doing god knows what.  I basically remember shaking uncontrollably as nonstop contractions ripped through me just hoping that someone would do something to make it stop.  They played more with the monitors, stopped the pitocin, gave me terb to stop the contractions, and who knows what else.  Not 15 minutes after pronouncing me 1 cm, another doctor said I was at 3 and that they'd go ahead and get me that epidural now.  

The slew of doctors left and just our nurse was in the room with us.  Joe asked if someone could please explain what the hell was going on and the nurse explained that I was, in fact, contracting but they couldn't get a read on how strong the contractions were.  What they could tell was that my uterus wasn't relaxing in between contractions.  This was a problem because it could cause my uterus to rupture.  Oh really, thanks for the update! 

The anesthesiologist came in to give me an epidural and it was like angels stared singing the hallelujah chorus.  I hadn't wanted an epidural at all, but I also hadn't wanted pitocin or back labor, or to be stuck shivering in a hospital bed, so at that point I went with it and was so happy at the idea of finally getting some rest.  It was almost 4 am and other than a two hour nap in the afternoon I hadn't gotten any good sleep in, well, weeks.  Full term pregnancy doesn't really lend itself to restful nights.

As they set me up to get the epidural Joe stood there rubbing my arm.  I felt a huge gush of water and pushed him away, afraid that he would get amniotic fluid all over his shoes.  The epidural hurt a little bit, but compared to everything else I'd been through since arriving at L&D I didn't even care.  At 4:30 am I was drugged up but could still move my legs and passed out within minutes.

I was checked again around 8am and told that I was 4 cm and expected to dilate 1 cm per hour.  At 9 I was still 4 cm, and the head OB came in to tell me that if I hadn't dilated to 5 in two more hours they were going to do a c section.  I fell back asleep and hoped for good news.  At 10 am the story changed.  I was still 4 cm, but the baby had stopped reacting favorably to the contractions, and whether than wait any longer they were going to prep me for surgery.  I hadn't wanted an epidural, and I sure as hell hadn't wanted major abdominal surgery.  But I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I signed the consent form and just hoped I could get some sleep soon.

By 10:30 they were wheeling me down the hall to the OR.  Joe was left to don scrubs and reassured that they would get him once I was ready for the surgery.  They moved me onto the table and pulled my gown up to my chest.  My arms were strapped straight out at my sides, and though I had told myself if I had to have a c section I would ask for my arms to be free I didn't even bother asking, I was so tired.  They started running more medicine into my epidural and I realized that I could see everything they were doing to me in the reflection of a light above my bed.  I didn't want to see it and yet couldn't look away.  I was naked and exposed and being doused with iodine and I was suddenly horrified at what was about to happen to me.  By the time they put up the drape and blocked the reflection I was terrified.  

They pricked me in a bunch of places to see if I could feel it and I answered uncertainly, afraid to be wrong.  I vaguely remember Joe coming in and hearing them say they were beginning.  The surgeon was accompanied by a resident and was giving him instructions that I could clearly hear and didn't want to.  I was told I would feel a bit of pressure, but what I felt was a lot of painful tugging.  I guess it could be called pressure, but it actually kind of hurt.  When I said this I was told that it was just pressure, I couldn't really feel anything.  I lay there moaning in discomfort as they tugged and pulled for what felt like ages.  I remember thinking just before surgery that it didn't make any sense that there was about to be a baby in the room.  Where would it come from?  And it would be mine?  It couldn't possibly work like that.

Suddenly, there was a ridiculous amount of "pressure" akin to ripping out my insides accompanied by the loudest newborn wails I have ever heard.  At 10:59 the surgeon announced "it's a big boy!" and I bawled, and my baby screamed, and Joe kissed me and said "it's Colin!" and the surgeon said "would you like to cut the cord son?" and Joe was gone and I was crying and couldn't wipe my face and was sniffling into my oxygen mask.  There were congratulations and comments on how loud and big he was and they asked if I saw him when they held him over the drape and I shook my head no.  Then Joe was back with a tiny bundle and I kissed his forehead and they were gone and I was left with tears on my face alone in a room full of medical staff.

I asked how much longer I'd be and they said about an hour.  And then I felt a sharp pain and another and another and started shrieking that I could feel what they were doing.  They said it was just pressure and I said I could feel it and started yelling.  The doctor stopped suctioning, and then started again, and when he started I could feel what he was doing and was crying and moaning and yelling out afraid and in pain.  He told them to give me more medicine and there was a lot of movement and the pain got a little better but the rest of the time they were sewing me up I could feel them suctioning and moving me around and hear them discussing why stitches were preferred to staples.  

I tried to shut my eyes and breathe through the pain and think about my new son in the nursery with my husband but I just wanted to be asleep.  They moved me to the recovery room, and I don't remember much.  I think they inserted a catheter and I remember trying to make a joke with the nurses but I don't remember what it was about.  I have a fuzzy memory of Joe finally quietly wheeling in the bassinet with my sleeping baby in it.  I think I might have gotten a nap before that.  And then there were nurses showing me how to breastfeed and complimenting his latch, and phone calls to my parents and my college roommates.  At some point we were all moved to a room where we would spend the next two days but I really don't remember most of it.  

The days at the hospital were both wonderful and frustrating.  I couldn't move, I was in pain, I needed help getting off the bed and on and off the toilet.  My first walk down the hall was excruciating and I didn't see how I would ever be able to function again.  My son was beautiful, and Joe was wonderful and Joe couldn't wait to get home and off his uncomfortable cot and I didn't want to come home where there would be no one to help me move around.

And then we came home and it was hard and it was painful and it was so much better than being at the hospital.  And we had a tiny, perfect, newborn baby boy.  Our Colin.

A Post About my Boobs

My parents were in town over the weekend, which was exciting for all involved.  The new grandparents absolutely adore their grandson, Colin was happy to have other people to hold him all day long, and Joe and I were thrilled to catch up on a little sleep while letting Grandma coddle the baby.  Well, whenever he wasn't attached to my boobs that is.Breastfeeding has become more difficult the past week or so as my right nipple has become disgustingly cracked and horrendously painful.  I think this is part non-stop nursing and mostly my desire to use my hands while feeding him for the umpteenth time and thus getting a poor latch every time.  It got to the point over the weekend where Colin was crying trying to latch and I was crying at the pain of him finally getting attached.  Whereas his nursing on the left side feels like little nibbles, nursing on the right side feels like someone is taking a stapler repeatedly to my nipple.  Making matters worse, I played phone tag with the lactation consultants at my hospital for five days before finally scouring kellymom, several newborn books, and calling all the nursing mothers I know to try to find a way to remedy this problem.  I finally got a call back from the lactation consultant yesterday afternoon.  She was appalled that at two weeks my nipple was still cracked open, but hello, maybe if anyone had been around to help I could have fixed this earlier.The plan as of now is that I'm getting toward the end of twenty-four hours of exclusively nursing on the left side while pumping on the right.  It was worth a try, but I have fed him three times on right simply because he's so hungry and can't get enough from the left side alone.  He was on for over an hour last night and kept falling asleep then crying for more.  

Maybe a sane person would have taken the ounce + that came out into the pump, put it in a bottle, and fed it to her obviously starving child.  Me?  I kept putting him back on the empty left breast, stubbornly refusing to 'confuse' my child with the nipple of a bottle.  Finally I gave up and put him on the sore right side, which was considerably less sore after eight hours of pumping, he ate greedily for ten minutes and then fell asleep for four hours straight.

So far today I have pumped three whole precious ounces out of my right breast and stuck it in the freezer for a rainy day.  Colin still hasn't had a bottle, because I clearly take the advice of not giving him one until at least four weeks *waaay* too seriously, but he has gotten what was left on that side a couple of times to help tide him over.  In the meantime, obviously, my good left side is getting a little sore from him constantly being attached to it, but I think we're almost to the point where both sides will be in working order.

Now that the sore side is healing, I'm routinely taking the time to latch him on properly, not moving my hands while he eats to make sure he stays on correctly, soaking the nipple in warm salt water post feeding, smothering it in lanolin, and then wearing a breast shell over it to air it out and keep my shirt away from it.  All of this means what had been hours of tedious nursing has become hours of nursing followed by pumping followed by a ridiculous routine that keeps me up even longer in the middle of the night, when even 5 minutes of lost sleep mean the difference between sanity and losing my ever-loving mind.

At this point, I can certainly understand why people give up nursing so soon.  It's hard.  It hurts.  My son can't be near me without rooting around frantically, which means while others get to cuddle with him I get to sit in a chair for half an hour with him attached to my chest.  I thought going in that I understood what "every two hours" meant, but I'm learning that it really means "whenever and every single time" Colin shows an interest in eating.  

Luckily, Joe is incredibly supportive and I'm committed to making this work.  I've decided that if giving Colin a bottle means saving me from losing my mind I'm going to do it.  And I keep repeating to myself that it really can only get better.  God please tell me it just gets easier.  Either way he's worth it, and his weight gain at his two week check up today proves that it's working.

Cutie

Overheard at our house lately:

Oh my god, he is so cute.

Hi cute one!

Colin, who's the cutest baby? Who is?  Who is?  Colin is!

He is so cute I can't even stand it.  

I mean seriously, how did he get to be this cute?

And just now, as I'm typing, from Joe: Look how cute he is!

Home Life

People, things are going well here.  So well I keep thinking that I should be updating here and emailing people more often but then I get sidetracked by Colin's cuteness or called upon to feed him or, I don't know, jump on an opportunity to take a shower so I can feel slightly more human and the next thing I know it's almost time for bed and my baby is another day older.

Yesterday we took our first family outing where we went to not one but two different Target stores to buy Colin a swing.  He absolutely loves it, as evidenced by the fact that he will actually sleep there.  And that means that I love it too.  We still spend nights with him sleeping on my chest, Joe passed out beside us, with me drifting back and forth between sleep and semi-awareness.  Spending twelve hours in bed assures me about 6-7 hours of actual sleep, so the days have gotten shorter and the nights have gotten longer but manageable.  

I'm loving nursing, except for the cracked nipples which evidently mean I'm just doing it wrong, but Colin is happy and as long as he's not cluster feeding it's not really all that painful.  I'm just trying to work on my technique and applying gobs of lanolin while airing my nipples as much as possible.  Mostly I wonder why I even bother wearing a shirt since it never actually covers anything.  Well, except my weird squashy belly that frankly kind of frightens me.  I can't wait to be cleared for exercise just so I can work on melting this thing back to a normal shape.  

Hmm, this has been a fairly rambling and incoherent post so let me just sum up by saying:

One Week

Colin's likes:

boobs

sleeping on mama's/daddy's chest

his hands

boobs

foot rubs

boobs

Colin's dislikes:

diaper/wardrobe changes

being swaddled

sleeping by himself

Mama's likes:

boppy pillow

Lasinoh

sleeping with Colin on my chest

nursing

Mama's dislikes:

bloodcurdling screaming during diaper/wardrobe changes

cracked abused nipples

sore, stitched up, stretch-marked, floppy tummy

Note typical hands-by-the-face/earmuffs pose.  He also eats with his hands around my boob and sleeps with one hand curled under his cheek.  Seriously, hands are the best.  Well, that and boobs.

It's A Boy!

Introducing Colin Michael

born 10:59am 3/10/09 via c section (ow)

8 lb 4 oz

20 5/8 " long

So, so freaking adorable.  

I'll type up a birth story when I have use of both hands.  We came home yesterday afternoon and are totally in love.  

Progress?

So to recap I was due on Saturday.  Last night while watching tv I started getting a vague crampy feeling in my lower back.  I noticed it sometime between 6 and 7 and it continued on and off as we watched a movie and went to bed.  I woke up at 11:45 with an actual contraction, and had a few on and off while I dozed.  I woke up at 1 to a stronger contraction and got up and wandered the house for a bit before deciding that if this is the real thing I would be better off getting some sleep.  I finally dozed back off around 3:30 and got up at 7, still with a general crampy feeling.

Joe and I went for a walk this morning which brought on some stronger contractions, but I haven't been able to time anything since there is rarely a defined start or stop, but more a persistent ache in my pelvis.  I'm sending Joe to work to get him out of my hair for a bit so I can try to nap and see if these don't get more consistent or stronger, but generally I've been cramping/contracting for about 14 hours now.  Oh, and I lost my mucus plug which: ew.  

If anything more exciting happens I'll keep you updated!

Yup. Still here.

My due date is tomorrow.  

Ahem.

Right, so I went to see my midwife yesterday and was told that I'm still not dilated at all.  Actually, I believe the first words she used were "Jeez, where is your cervix?"  so you can imagine how comfortable that exam was.  I scheduled an appointment for next Friday to get a non-stress test.  If I have the kid before then great!  Swell!  Cancel the appointment!  If I'm (god forbid) still pregnant I go in to get monitored and based on what they see we'll schedule an induction for some time before the 18th.  But there's no way I'll still be pregnant next Friday, right?  Haha ha?

Whereas for the past few weeks I was so ready to go into labor at any point I have now resigned myself to the fact that this kid is nice and comfortable in there and I really don't plan on meeting my baby until at least the middle to end of next week, which: meh.  I'm sick and tired of being hugely pregnant and miserably uncomfortable and all the freaking waiting, but at the same time it's getting old going to bed every night thinking 'maybe I'll wake up in a few hours with contractions!'  

Joe has been calling me at least twice a day just to see how I'm feeling, which usually involves me feeling cranky because the phone just woke me up from a nap.  Every time I complain about an ache or pain (see also: often) he says 'maybe you'll have a baby soon!'  Which, aw, but oh my god this kid is never coming out why don't you just accept that fact and move on?

I keep telling myself I'm going to go for a long walk or find some stairs to climb or do something to work on getting this kid out of here but then I realize I tried walking all last week and guess what?  still pregnant, so maybe I should just curl up on the couch in front of HGTV instead.  It doesn't help that every time I google something like 'self-induction techniques' every single site ends its advice with 'just be sure to enjoy your time to yourself these past few weeks!' and I guess at this point I'm taking that advice to heart.  That said, if there's anything that oh my god totally works just eat this enormous pizza and have some ice cream and that kid will be here in no time!  let me know.

Although I will say I've been sitting on the damn exercise ball for weeks and still: not dilated.  Grrr.

Um, yeah, let me also get to work on having this kid so I can write about something besides being pregnant, god.  You know, like diapers and breastfeeding or something equally groundbreaking.

Balancing Act

I seriously need something else to do with my time.

Look ma, no hands!

In like a Lion

You all learned the saying "March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb" in the second grade, right?  I distinctly remember making lion faces out of construction paper and paper plates in grade school to demonstrate this effect.  My husband, product of Florida schools, had never heard this saying and thinks I've been making it up.

Well, and here we are March 2nd with the snow falling and arguably more of it than we've had the rest of the year.  Again, being from Florida, Joe insisted on taking the bus to work this morning so as not to have to deal with cleaning off his car and driving in a little bit of snow.  Which means I'll be expecting my water to break at any minute today since it will take him about four times as long to get home when I actually need him.

And yes!  To answer Shelly's question I've been thinking all along that I'm having a boy.  In all honesty, I'm sure this is simply because all of my cousins who have had babies in the past few years have had boys, but I've really never thought this one could be a girl.  My mom and Joe's mom have both said girl all along.  Joe thinks we're all crazy for having any sort of guess, and he thinks I'm particularly crazy for not finding out at all.  He's been dying to know all along, but I'm really glad that I've been able to hold out.  I've had strangers eye me and tell me boy or girl with equal conviction, so really I'm kind of having fun with no one actually knowing.  

As far as other random questions that always arrive with babies, in no particular order:

I hope to go without drugs as long as possible, although I'm in no way claiming I won't get an epidural.

I plan to breastfeed, and I'm probably the most nervous about this since I've heard how hard it can be.

There is no nursery at our hospital so baby will be rooming in with us the entire 36-48 hours they have us stay, and the rooms are not all private so ugh.  I'm hoping not to have a roommate, but I guess in the grand scheme of things it's not that long, right?

I think we're pretty much ready.  We still have some rearranging to do in the baby's room, but we're planning on having the baby sleep in a bassinet in our room for the first indeterminable amount of time anyway.  Joe installed the carseat and I need to get that inspected this week at some point.  I haven't gotten into the whole nesting thing, other than just generally keeping my house clean because I'm here all the damn time, but I don't even care.  I'm ready for this baby whether or not there are still books that need to be put in boxes and into storage and regardless of the fact that the crib is still full of baby gifts that haven't yet found a permanent home.  My mom today told me she's guessing the 3rd (!) and my dad is guessing the 5th.  I sincerely hope they're right, but I'm not technically due until Saturday and as the days go by I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that this stubborn child is going to make a late appearance.  My father-in-law is hoping for the 13th, since that is his birthday, and I'm having a hard time not saying anything rude as I report that because who wishes six extra days of this crap on someone?  

Yes, names are chosen, and no, we're not sharing, and surprisingly we haven't told a soul other than the three people that I have told the girl middle name to to get them to shut up begging me to let them know what we're thinking.  All I'll say here is that our girl name is my grandma's first name and Joe's mom's maiden name, and our boy name is a name we both love plus my dad's and brother's name (which is also Joe's middle name).  So if you're savvy you'll be able to pick out the boy's middle name at least.  I *adore* our boy name.  I'm less crazy about the combination of our girl name because it doesn't flow all that well, but I do love that it honors family so the flow doesn't both me too much.   

Any other burning questions?  Things to help distract me from the waiting game?  Anecdotes about your own fond labor memories that you'd like to share?

One Whole Year

I just realized today is my first blogiversary, so hooray for that!  It seems so weird that it's been a year already, and I know I don't update all that often but I have had fun with this so far, and it's been great "meeting" you guys.  

Thinking back on all that has happened this past year kind of blows me away: I ran a half-marathon, bought a condo, got pregnant, and then started writing constantly about being pregnant.  It's even more amazing to me what I'll have to look forward to in the coming year, which will hopefully start very very soon with the delivery of this child.  I've resorted to bribing the baby to come out already, oh my god please come out I'll let you stay up late and watch hockey games with mama, but so far no change.  I promise to keep you all updated, and hopefully I'll have some exciting news to report soon as my due date is but six (6!) days away.

For what it's worth, my older brother was three days late and I was three days early.  I saw my midwife on Friday and was told that I am just 50% effaced, not dilated, and the head is "right there."  So, any guesses?  Joe is convinced it will happen between the 6th and the 11th, which I think is crap since that's, um, kind of a generous time frame, no?  I have been told that the 18th is the latest they will let me go before inducing, but I'm really holding out for this week sometime, hopefully by the 6th.  For one thing, 3/6/09 is a kind of cool date.  That said any day the first week or March is probably a good birthdate, do you hear me in there child??

Ahem.  So right.  Yes, I am large and uncomfortable blah blah blah but so much more than that I am just anxious to meet this little one who has been my constant companion these past nine months.  Girl?  Boy?  Takes after mama or daddy?  I can't wait to find out.  

And either way this little blog will have so much more to report in the coming year.