Mighty

"His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

January has been a sad month truth be told. I think we are all feeling it. There are devastating things happening to good people all around the world and closer to home to people I love dearly.

I like to believe it is human instinct to want to help anyone forced to deal with such loss and yet it is also common to feel powerless to help in any real tangible way. I always wish that I could take on the pain of that person to lesson their burden. If only pain was something you could pick up and carry around for someone to lighten their load.

Today, as I pushed the stroller full of North around the neighborhood, the wind kicked up along the road. It filled my ears with exhilarating swooshes and felt almost warm against my skin even though the sun was falling fast. During a few more furious gusts, gumballs were flying around like lottery balls, threatening to velcro themselves to our fuzzy heads as they fell to the ground. If Jake, our dog, had been with us, he would already have a handful sticking to him. Gumballs stick to him like he was a cotton ball with legs running through a cactus patch. But he was at home while we were forced to dodge the stroller through the puddles of gumballs now littering the road.

There is nothing like being immersed in the power of the nature to remind yourself that you are alive. The wind felt like a physical being that could be reined in and ridden through the sky if only I had brought a lasso. It felt both wild and familiar, like memories swooshing by. I like to think that energy I felt was the spirit of all of those who have met their physical earthly end. But that energy will always live on.

Rest in peace Willie "Bill" Henderson.

Thirty four

It took 34 years, but I think I'm officially an adult now. Dave's parents stayed with us on Friday night and there was an early birthday cake involved. But I forgot to make a wish as I blew out the candles. Last year, I wished for a healthy baby. The year before that, I wished for a pregnancy. I now have everything I've ever wanted, so no more wishing is necessary.

My birthday has been just another day to me for quite a few years now. I don't say that in a sad way. Ninety five percent of the time, the weather outside is either rain or snow, which helps to explain the pensive way the day gets spent. I tend to just go about my business as usual and often spend it quietly reflecting on the last year. Kind of like my own private VH1 year end wrap up if you will. This year, I cannot wait to get home and enjoy the rainy day cuddling with a certain pants peeing little boy while we wait for daddy to return. He defines the last year of my life perfectly.

This morning as I got ready for work, I could hear North stirring in his crib. His latest habit upon waking is to pull himself up by the wooden bars and chatter away until you come in to rescue him from his crib prison. As I was quickly pulling my hair into a ponytail, I could hear his chatter over the monitor and I swear I heard a "Awuwuuhappybirthdaymamaawuwua" thrown in there. That kid melts me into a puddle. Thanks baby for showing me the joy I brought with me when I was born into the world many moons ago.

The letter people

With my maternity leave drawing quickly to a close, I'm trying to cram in as many projects from my to-do list as possible.  I don't see it in my future to have this kind of free time on my hands again any time soon.  In many ways, I look forward to going back to work. But it will be bittersweet for sure, losing my full time days with North. While I have profound respect for moms that stay home tending to their children and home; it is simply not for me.  I've come to learn what a lonely job it can be.

Today, I took on some of the filing cabinets and boxes hidden in closets to free up some space in our lives.  I found myself hunched over cards and letters I've saved over the years for most of the afternoon.  Who knew I had been carrying around so much paper all these years? Revisiting the past always makes for a strange but soothing day.

Although I got rid of a lot of sentimental stuff, I saved the "best of" from all the letters and cards I've ever received.  I tried to limit the keepers to those that really summed up that person or my relationship to them.  I kept the ones that would have me smiling and laughing in years to come.

At first, I felt it was my duty to do so.  I mean, by the time North is my age, people may not even send physical letters anymore.  Perhaps mom's old letters from the last century will be foreign and quaint to him then?

Maybe one day North will read some of them and wonder who some of these people are?  I hope he finds their stories and sense of humor about this silly game we call life as compelling as I have. He can skim through their words and build an image of what his lame old mum used to be like in her glory days and what life was like in the late 1900s.    Wow, that really sounds weird.

I almost wanted to contact some of the folks that wrote to me back then to see if they wanted me to return their letters for curiosity's sake.  But I worried that would offend or seem just plain odd to anyone else.  Ever wonder what you wrote in some of those letters you penned so long ago?  I know I do.  In many ways, I think letters still belong to the people that wrote them I guess.  

Some of them were saved from recycling so that I can re-read them through North's life for a little perspective on what he might go through as a young adult based on what I went through.  Those letters should be a hilarious reminder to me that I have been a pretty unruly kid for my parents.  Hopefully, they will give me the strength to allow him to make his own mistakes and find his own path like I did.

Four years

Somehow it feels like we've been together forever, and yet marking four years seems so brief.  We've packed so much into our time together; from traveling to 3 different continents to selling our home, to buying another and finally, bringing new life into the world.  I look forward to whatever life has in store for us, knowing I get to walk beside you.

One month

Like all good things in life, it seems like North has been in our lives forever and since yesterday simultaneously. He was brought into the world only one month ago, which feels like a lifetime away now (and in many ways, it was another life). And yet, time is already flying by so quickly. I want to do nothing but stare at him all day long for fear of missing something. I'm afraid that we'll be sending him off to kindergarten if I blink even once.

Already, there have been so many precious firsts: the first time he peed on us, his first projectile poop, his first explosive spit-up, and his first real bath. His umbilical cord finally fell off around 3 weeks after some tummy time. It had occurred to me to possibly save it. That is, until it fell off and I found it inside his onesie and realized saving it was the equivalent of saving a scab. Saving a tooth or some hair trimmings is one thing, but saving a dried up piece of meat (?) just felt a bit strange to me. And so we fed it to Jake (I joke, I joke). I fried it up first.

I'm still amazed at how far he has come in just 4 weeks of life. He now tracks our movements with eyes that really seem to register what he's looking at. When he smiles, we think it's not always gas or sweet relief after he's moved his bowels. At his pediatrician appointment, he already weighed 9 lbs 2 ounces! His progress amazes me on a daily basis. Truly, he amazes me on a daily basis.

He's about to outgrow newborn diapers and onesies already and it just breaks my heart that he's getting bigger. I want his bum to always fit perfectly into the palm of my hand even if that means he accidentally poops on it. While I realize that so many awesome things are waiting for us around the corner, (real smiles, laughter, walking, words!) I'm trying to savor each newborn moment with him now. As much as we're trying to document it, I know that nothing quite captures it like real life does. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go stare at my precious little man some more.

Introducing Mr. Fussypants

Never have I seen so many superstitious people as I have since giving birth. Through the duration of my pregnancy, I've had the pleasure of coming to know several other women that found themselves likewise knocked up. Now that most of us have had our babies (although there are still several that are finishing up their cooking time), it's interesting to see where these women (and myself) are at emotionally. We are wise enough to know that even when things are going well with our newest addition to the family, to admit this out loud tempts God to punish you for such pride. I've never been so happy to surround myself with so many wooden objects as I am now, in case the need suddenly arises to appease myself with the fates and knock on wood after admitting I have a well-behaved baby.

But sometimes no matter how bloody our knuckles, even knocking on wood cannot protect us from the condition of a fussy child. Strangely, it is a bit of a relief to admit we have a fussypants on our hands.  Afterall, I am well acquainted with the look of someone that silently loathes me for having a well-mannered child as they smile politely and say, "how nice for you," through clenched teeth. As the saying goes, misery loves company and this is particularly true of an exhausted and hormonal new mother.

In the interest of full disclosure, the last week has been particularly rough on me (which I hate to admit). But I set this blog up to document this experience and that doesn't mean creating an illusion of the truth I want people to believe. Since North's crying jags have begun, I had felt incompetent as a mother and ineffectual as a soother of a crying infant. The experience had me feeling numb and scared of my child. While I could still enjoy the good moments with my little boy, I dreaded the future outburst from him that I  had no confidence to calm.

I find myself knocking on the wooden desk I'm typing upon even now, feeling more secure in my newfound skills as a mother. While both Dave and I have developed new talents of calming a crying child, the more valuable mindset I've developed in the last week is that of not caring what any outside observer thinks of my mothering skills. I've learned how to convince myself that babies will cry and it is not my fault. It is not the fault of my clean floors when my baby has gas that he needs to work through. The fact that I failed to sleep when he sleeps for the upteenth day in a row is not causing his temporary colic. As of tomorrow, we've had this child in our care for a grand total of 3 weeks and you know what---I'm pretty damn proud of how far we've come in that time. And yes, today was a stellar day (even with a little bit of fussiness thrown into the mix) but we overcame the fear and enjoyed the beautiful day.

Really, I'm writing this for any new mother out there that has or will have similar feelings. I believe doubting yourself and what you are capable of is normal.  Just choose not to allow these negative thoughts to rule you (and if the people around you are making you feel this way, address this with them immediately). While everyone's experience is absolutely unique, I know such self-doubt will only lead to more bad experiences down the road.

While North is far and away my number one priority right now because he is at his most vulnerable; my husband, our pets, and my ambition are still on the forefront of my mind as well. Learning to balance all of them has been my mission in the last 3 weeks; but even before  that, the art of a well balanced life has always been my most important and never-ending challenge. Having a baby just adds one more ball to my juggling act.

North meets world

The ride to the hospital was the longest 2 mile car ride of my life and Dave had to pull over twice so I could work through some contractions that were coming every 4 minutes. We arrived to the hospital around 6:30 PM last night and were welcomed to the hospital by several tour groups of expectant families. Although in pain, it amused me to be the obligatory woman in labor character for the tour group.  I  know  I spent our tour of the hospital weeks earlier looking for noticeably laboring women moaning through the hallways and saw not one.  Please note, I was not moaning either, but I'm sure I looked distressed enough every few minutes to freak them out a bit.  They put us in the triage room to assess my progress.

Around 7:30 PM, I was 4-5 cm dilated and they administered an IV. We discussed an epidural and I decided to give up the ghost of natural childbirth after enduring more than 24 hours of regular and increasingly painful contractions. My fear was that dealing with the pain would tire me out too much to push. Moreover, I felt like I was impeding my own dilation and progression by tensing up during the later contractions. The earlier ones from the previous 24 hours were easier to work through and somehow relax during the pain; whereas, I found myself trying to freeze the pain and just wait each contraction out until it dissipated with the later more painful ones.

I'm so thankful that I wasn't stubborn about this decision because it would be another 2 hours before the epidural was put in around 9:30 PM. I've come to realize that this decision is truly a personal one. At some point during the experience, you have to weigh many more factors than just your tolerance for pain---for me, time was my most weighty factor. I really wanted North to be born on April 7, my Grandpa Kennelly's birthday. We had already decided to name him in honor of Dave's grandfather, Paul North Kilian, for his first name. And we wanted him to carry my maiden name, Miles, for his middle name. So having him on April 7 was my way of honoring a part of my other grandfather as well. Nothing like putting a little added pressure on yourself! But honestly at 9:30 PM when they gave me the epidural, I didn't think having him before midnight was remotely in the cards.

Fifteen minutes later, at 9:45 PM Dr. B broke my water, which was a relief and the I'm-going-to-pee-my-gown-feeling went away (because well...I did pee my gown essentially). She measured me at about 5 cm after she broke the water. The sweet epidural surrounded me like a warm hug and all become happy with the world again. I also stopped shivering like a madman, which I think was starting to freak Dave out. Neither of us were prepared for the uncontrollable shaking that overtook my body when labor started.  Dave wore his heavy fleece jacket for the duration of my labor, the room was so cold, but I couldn't feel a thing.

By 10:00 PM, I was 8 cm dilated. You got that right, I had progressed 3 cm in fifteen minutes because that's the way I roll. The problem with such quick progression though was that North's heart rate started dropping. They gave me oxygen, attached an internal fetal heart monitor to North's head and had me change positions to see if that didn't improve his heart rate. There was talk about a C-section at that point, but only as a last resort. Dr. B. really wanted to give me every opportunity to have him vaginally (sorry to any guys reading this, I know that word is upsetting to you). And although having him via C-section was not part of my grand vision, I would have signed up in a heartbeat if there was any real fear of distress for him. But he stabilized within 15 minutes or so.

At 10: 30 PM, I had progressed to 9 cm and 0 station. A catheter was inserted so I no longer had to be concerned about peeing my pants. I also think that catheters should be prerequisite for pregnant ladies throughout the duration of gestation. There should be laws about such things. Write to your Congressman ladies!

North still needed to move further down before he could be delivered. So I started pushing at 10:50 PM. I wasn't very good at it at first quite frankly. It probably took the third contraction to really get a good feel for what I needed to do. There was also a brief confessional period where I admitted I wasn't pushing with my full effort due to my fear of pooping. Everyone assured me that pooping was normal and they wouldn't be bothered by it. But, I still didn't believe them. It helped, but to be honest I could have pushed more the whole time. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't because I would probably have ripped up my body a lot worse if I did give it 110%.

Dave was, of course, awesome throughout the entire experience. When he wasn't texting friends and family with progress reports, he was holding my hand or making me laugh. As a matter of fact, the entire process was miraculously pleasant, intimate and enjoyable for all four of us. Dave held one leg, while Nurse Mary held the other and counted out loud. Dr. B, encouraging me the whole time, updated me on the progress down below and directions on what to do next. Meanwhile I held Dave's other hand, closed my eyes and tried my darndest to focus all my energies on the task at hand.

They positioned a mirror for me to watch, which surprised me that I actually wanted to see what was going on down there. I also thought it would help me to see what progress I was making and what kind of pushing was most effective. When he crowned, Dr. B asked me if I wanted to feel his head. That was the second most awesome thing I have ever felt. The first was a couple of minutes later, as North shot out of my body. That's the only way I can describe it because I had no idea the process would be that quick. I ended up pushing for 50 minutes, and North was born at 11:39 PM. As soon as he came out, they laid him on a blanket on my chest and laughter emitted from deep inside me at the realization that he was out. Never have such true tears of joy been shed from these eyes. Looking back on that moment now, I can clearly see that I have been building up for that one moment of pure joy my entire life.

North heading south? (thanks Elisa)

Last night had me making countless trips to the bathroom, which started me thinking labor was imminent.  Around 3:30 AM, the first contraction hit and I laid in bed opening my eyes only to see my alarm clock 10 minutes later each time a new contraction hit.  Around 5:00 AM, I figured this was the real deal and I got up to prepare.  Preparation equals cleaning my house even when I'm not nesting, so it's no surprise my noise upstairs ended up waking Dave downstairs.  He called to me as I was on my way downstairs with the laundry basket, "everything OK?"

This will surprise people, but I don't commonly get up at 5:00 AM to do a load of darks.  As non alarmingly as possible, I explained what was going on to him.  This was the third time in a week I had these contractions, but each time they had stopped before.  And I'm starting to get a Chicken Little complex.

Once Dave was out of bed, showered, packed and had completed his holy-shit-we're-going-to-the-hospital-checklist, the contractions stopped....again.  Dave went into work with instructions to call him if they started back up again.

I decided to stay home from work and eat pineapple while chugging Castor oil.  I deliciously slept most of the morning away (why didn't I take more naps during pregnancy?) And I took a leisurely  2 mile waddle around the neighborhood.  Finally, I got over the guilt of not going to work by realizing this was the last time in a long while I would have this kind of time to myself.  The walk was just what I needed to clear my head and gain some perspective.  North, you are a very lucky boy to be born at such a beautiful time of year.  You will be able to celebrate your own birth every year as the world blossoms around you.  It's like everything is coming to life now because you are on your way.

No promises, but as I write this, I'm timing contractions again.  Right now, they are about 7 minutes apart.  Keep your fingers crossed!

Happy Due Date

My due date has finally arrived, but no action. We woke up at 7:00 AM and walked down the street and browsed around at a tag sale. Going through the possessions of the deceased always proves to be such a strangely calming act and I always walk away thinking differently about life and the stuff we choose to surround ourselves with. Leaving a tag sale always makes me want to minimize my belongings, and yet often makes me wish I had kept some mementos previously purged too. I guess I want some stranger to be able to go through our stuff one day and build the story of our joyful life the same way Dave and I built up and therefore honored the memory of our neighbor that has moved on to a better world. Sometimes, it's those strange little tokens someone has held on to for years and years that helps to form a clear picture of their life.

Today our plan is to spend the day working on the yard. I know, we're supposed to be relaxing---but that is how we relax! I will spend one more Saturday disturbing my neighbors by baring my enormous belly to them for possibly the last time. I'm thankful that North has stayed in the womb this long and that we get one more weekend before our new life starts. I'm setting my new sights on 4/7.

Smelling Roses

Just a brief progress report from my appointment yesterday with the doctor. I'm still 50% effaced, 2 cm dilated and -2 station. Not a lot of difference from last week really and that is fine by me since we're still tying up some loose ends on the home, work and life front. As for little North, the doctor didn't measure any growth since last week, so we've scheduled another ultrasound for next week to check on him again. If they are not happy with his growth at that point, they will deliver. Or they may be fine with his progress and let me go further past due. Either way, at the appointment next week, we will talk about the possibility of induction. But I'd prefer to avoid that if possible because I feel like an induction increases the odds of me wanting an epidural. But as I've said before, I have no real birth plan and all I ultimately want is for North to be healthy no matter how he comes out or what drugs I do or do not take to make that happen. Of course, I could always go into labor RIGHT NOW too.

Just as this whole pregnancy is drawing to a close am I finally enjoying it. These last 10 months have been filled with preparation, some of which was enjoyable like creating the nursery, baby shopping and creative ways to save money. But other aspects have proved to be very stressful. For example, preparing to leave my job for three months and finding the time to take care of all those last minute house projects that couldn't be put off any longer have been my greatest challenges. Both Dave and I have been so busy and distracted with our eye on the prize, that we haven't had much time to slow down and enjoy these last moments of just the two of us that we have left. So per the advice of some good friends, we've been trying to slow down a bit more in the past few weeks. Plus, it helps that most of our obligations have been fulfilled and we are finally able to stop stressing about it all. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change a thing about this pregnancy. But as I look back on the last year or so, I see all of this plain as day now.

But there's nothing like impending labor to motivate you to do something you would otherwise happily put off until tomorrow. Especially, in the last week, I have been annoyingly productive even when it's the last thing I want to be because by God, I could go into labor RIGHT NOW. I better take out the recycling RIGHT NOW while I still can. If I don't scrub my shower down RIGHT NOW, I will be mad at myself when I come home to a dirty shower with a new baby. I had better write those thank you cards RIGHT NOW so I don't forget and then everyone thinks I am ungrateful. I had better write a blog post RIGHT NOW to document as much about this pregnancy as I can before the baby is born. In this sense, I am growing impatient for North to make his way toward the light because labor is starting to sound very relaxing.

I've noticed a marked change in people over the course of the last 2 months, as my pregnancy has become much more obvious. The kindness of friends, family and even strangers has made this experience so much more enjoyable for both Dave and me. I will miss people seeing the weeble wobble pregnant me coming their way and stopping their car so I can cross or holding the elevator door that extra second for me to jump on. I will miss the phone calls from loved ones checking in to see how I'm feeling or to wish me good luck or just because they were thinking about us. And I'd like to thank everyone for making us feel how much you all care. It really does mean a lot. And it really makes us happy to be bringing a new life into such a loving community of souls that are waiting with outstretched arms to welcome him.

Meeting Mister T

Here is the oh so handsome little man that was born into our lives last week, Mister Tyler Douglas Wilsey. He may hate me for this 18 years from now, but he's just so beautiful I want to eat him. He seems to have taken a keen interest in his Uncle Dave, whom he's staring at in the photo above. I can't believe he's a little over 1 day old in this photo and already looking so alert and interested in his surroundings.

I don't want to be one of those moms that becomes fluent in baby talk as soon as my kid is born. And can I confess I'm off to a bad start? I look at this picture and all I can think is, "wook at dat iddy biddy mouf...I's gonna eat your cheeks nom nom nom." Someone stop me.

Putting a face to a name

Internets, meet North. North, these are what former Senator Ted Stevens referred to as the internet "tubes. " Please be nice to our little boy, after all, he's negative 16 days old!

The good to come out of having a baby that is measuring small is all the additional sonograms we get to make sure he's OK in there. Last month, he was hiding his face with his hand like some spoiled starlet that has tired of the paparazzi's camera. And yesterday, he was possibly attempting to eat his toes (which means he takes after me and let's just leave any disgusting habits I may or may not have had as a child alone). But in between his first taste of self-cannibalism, we were still able to get a couple of excellent shots of his cute little mug.

I'm starting to think we're giving birth to Benjamin Button because North keeps measuring more and more behind the further into the pregnancy we get. Last month he was measuring 2 weeks behind and yesterday he was measuring almost 3 weeks behind. Granted, the docs say everything is fine and he passed his biophysical profile again so we're not worried. Plus, by the looks of those chubby cheeks in the picture, he's not malnurished in the least. He's weighing in at 5 pounds 9 ounces as a matter of fact.

But North, I think we need to have a little mother to son chat. I know I've said before that I like the fact that you are small because well... I am selfish and thinking of my own labor pain. But you can't stop growing just to try to please me. I promise that I will not be mad at you even if you weigh ten pounds and rip my body apart as you leave it. So stop sucking on your toes young man and start eating all those cookies I am sending down to you at once! Get BIGGER! And clean up this womb while you're at it!

I'd also like to welcome Mr. Tyler Douglas Wilsey to our happy family. Proud parents Robyn and Chris Wilsey brought him into the world about ten minutes before midnight on St. Patrick's Day. The little tyke weighed in at 9 pounds 2 ounces and 21 3/4 inches long. We're heading back to the hospital tonight, armed with a camera this time, so pictures of Mr. T will be soon to follow!

Try not to breathe

It's early in the morning and I've given up on going back to sleep. But I can't really complain much about this stage of pregnancy because I'm well aware of how good I have it compared to so many other ladies. This whole pregnancy has been so easy in fact, that I worry there will be a price to pay once North is here. I'm half expecting the doctors to hand me the most colicky baby in the world while muttering, "time to pay the piper." But fear not! I've read and watched "The Happiest Baby on the Block" so I'm somewhat familiar with the five soothing techniques described in it. Every now and then I like to test Dave on his knowledge of the five "S" techniques explained in the book and like a soldier, he quickly barks, "shushing, swaddling, side-position, ...sauerkraut! and... supercalifragilisticexpialidocious sir!"

A friend of mine also recommended the "Mayo Clinic Complete Book of Pregnancy and Baby's First Year" (I bought mine used on Amazon for $0.01 and mainly just had to pay shipping to get it here. When it arrived, the book had a sticker on the front that says "Compliments of Your State Farm Agent" which leads me to believe that our State Farm agent is hoarding all of his copies since he didn't provide us with one. Bad agent bad.) So lately I've been reading all about labor and delivery since I was too cheap to actually sign us up for a class. Not taking a class probably sounds bad I'm sure, but I can do a lot with that $80 saved! The way I look at it, this book cost me all of $5 to learn the material myself with a little bit of discipline. So far, I'm loving the ritual of reading it and I'm surprised at what an emotional experience it has been.

I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but the last three nights while i read about labor, North was moving furniture around in my womb. I'm guessing he is in the process of packing up his belongings for his big trip. But I think the book is helping him to prepare for what he needs to do as well. I can handle the direction and explanation of what my body should be doing during each of the stages of pregnancy---in fact, I enjoy the vivid description of my cervix being a turtleneck that slowly draws the baby's head out. While learning about breathing patterns and relaxation techniques, I find my body involuntary trying them out and getting comfortable with them. So maybe the baby can feel me practicing and knows it's time to jump ship soon.

But when i read about the tips for the labor companion, I tear up. Somehow reading through the preparatory information meant for Dave conjures up visions of what labor will really be like. It's like catching a glipse of the movie we're going to see in a few weeks. As soon as the book brought my labor companion into the picture, it all became real to me. Kind of funny, but when I think about it in terms of me, it's too abstract for me to feel anything and a stoic wave washes over me. But when I look at the experience through Dave's eyes, I can start to wrap my head around what the future holds. I don't even know if that makes sense to anyone but me. Maybe I shouldn't write blog posts early in the morning when I can't sleep.

But this tip in particular got me all choked up:

-Breathe with her, maintaining eye contact.

There's just no escaping that sentence! It's looking right at you, refusing to break eye contact and it's matching your breathing patterns! That sentence can see you seeing me seeing you and it makes me realize that no matter what, everything is going to be just fine. That's why it makes me cry.

He ain't heavy...

Our little man is still measuring small, but there is nothing to be alarmed about. I repeat, do not be alarmed! His growth is still progressing, he's just not a ginormous kid (hi God, I owe you). At this point, the measurement of my abdomen should correspond to the number of weeks I am. So in theory at 34 weeks, I should measure 34 cm. But yesterday I measured 32 cm at 34 weeks (a couple weeks ago, I was measuring 29 cm though, so there is growth.) They gave us an ultrasound and did a biophysical profile and all North's stats look good. He's about 4 lbs. 8 oz currently and he has hair (hairdo currently undetermined). They roughly put him in the 25 percentile, so nothing to worry about. Now I just need to make sure I have a good supply of small cloth diapers on hand for our teeny bummed boy.

So it looks like we've made it to 34 weeks according to yesterday's doctor visit. I was so confused after my visit a couple of weeks ago, that I didn't even want to say how far along I was or wasn't since my calculation versus the nurse's calculation was over a week off (and with her being a nurse, she kind of trumps me you know?) But it turns out, I was right all along---take that medical professional! So according to what the doctor told us yesterday, I've got about 40 days to go. If I had to put my emotions into two words, those words would be "holy poop."

There's nothing to get too worked up about though, we're as ready as we're going to be. Dave's parents came over a couple of weeks ago and helped us move our bedroom downstairs beside the nursery (thanks guys!). They also helped us set up an office/craft/play area in the old bedroom where we will spend most of our home work hours with the baby. And last weekend when my mom and step-dad were in town we used up most of the gift cards from our baby shower on an awesome sale that Babies-R-Us was having. This being our first child, it was nice having my mom there to help us figure out what we needed and what worked for her. So we're looking good in terms of having the basic supplies on hand.

In other preparation news, we've got a meeting set up with a pediatrician next week and I've also set up a tour of Rex Hospital, where we'll bring the little man into the world. I've even been keeping up on my reading to prepare for labor so I don't feel like such a dimwit walking into the hospital.

I had somewhat of a scary realization about not knowing squat about labor early Sunday morning around 2:30 AM. I woke up to horrible cramps and went upstairs so I didn't wake Dave or our guests. As I lay there in a cold sweat on the bathroom floor writhing in pain, it occurred to me that this could be labor. (A bit later, it became apparent that I had some sort of stomach bug that has been going around.) But my point is, I've never felt a contraction before and when I've spoken to women about labor pains in the past they almost always use the description of horrible cramps to explain the sensation.

That's when it occurred to me that my recent fantasies of giving birth naturally are probably not going to come to fruition. Not that I'm declaring any sort of birth plan either way. But if my little stomach bug is any indication of my threshold for pain, I will be demanding an epidural the moment I step foot in that hospital. As a matter of fact, I may even ask about epidural procedures during the hospital tour next week just so I am well-informed going into this. Do you have to ask for it a certain way? Is there a secret handshake or do you have to know a cryptic key phrase in order to earn one? Can I have one now to see if this will be the best decision for us? Can I have several? Inquiring minds want to know.

Warning: this post contains no segues

I've been avoiding my blog. I admit it. I apologize and all that, but it seems the world doesn't stop when I don't update here and that's good to know. As a matter of fact, the world seems to pick up the pace at a faster clip as I realize all that's happened since my last post. So let's just jump right in shall we?

All is well on the baby front. I had an appointment last week and everything seems to be progressing as expected. I'm measuring a bit small, 29 cm instead of 31 cm and the doc scheduled an ultrasound for me for next week. She didn't seem overly concerned about the small measurement and frankly, I'm not that surprised about it either. Compared to the other pregnant women I know, I don't look so obviously pregnant. I look more "Dayum! Does that girl have the biggest beer gut I've ever seen!" For real, my gut looks like your Uncle Lester's spare tire---except mine is solid and made of steel. If I didn't know any better, I would walk around asking perfect strangers to punch me in the belly just to prove to them how rock hard my baby gut is. But don't worry, I know that's not good for the baby. The doctor mentioned that to me when I dared him to pile 500 pounds of concrete blocks on my stomach and break them with a sledgehammer. Doctors man, not into double dog daring challenges as much as you'd think.

Meanwhile, little man is extremely active and I can feel him getting stronger. Every now and then when I get a kick, my body has a reflex jolt. I don't know what he's hitting in there. But as he gets more powerful, the sensations are getting more ticklish and more strange which causes me to yell out to him to stop. And that doesn't sound at all crazy. There is nothing weird about a woman clutching her belly as she demands it to stop tormenting her right? Oh to be a fly on the wall.

So our shiny brand spanking new metal roof is finally installed and it looks fantastic (now we want to paint the non-brick areas green to make the roof "pop" as designers like to annoyingly say). This roof will be good for the lifetime of the house and among other things is more energy efficient and will save us money on our utilities. Plus, it looks cool and stuff. The metal roof will also massage our feet and tell us we're pretty when we are feeling bloaty. This morning it rained for the first time since the roof was installed and it seems that two of our skylights now leak. Normally, I'm all about bringing the outside in design-wise, but this is a little extreme for my taste. So now I just hope the roofing company fixes the issue for us without charge. Either that or I will cry and let me just warn you that me crying plus snot equals not pretty.

I cannot think of a good segue here. Normally I don't talk about my job on my blog because I am not a stupidhead. But I am going to touch on a subject that has been causing me not to write for the last week.

First a bit of back story: my plan has always been to go back to work full time after my maternity leave. I had hoped and vocalized for years that I was interested in coming to the office for half of my work hours and telecommuting part time from home in the afternoons while caring for the baby. The plan was that Dave would keep the opposite schedule as me so that North would always be under the care of one of us and we could bypass the daycare route for awhile anyway. Dave and I are equal breadwinners in our household. So the idea of one of us quitting our job to raise the baby is simply not an option. Plus, neither of us wants to quit our job either, which is important to note. But daycare expenses in Raleigh are equal to a second mortgage, which can likewise take a toll on household expenses. Hence the solution I came up with years ago.

That has always been the rough plan and to be honest, if I didn't think it was attainable, I wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place. I don't believe in having babies if you cannot afford them (I'm talking to you octuplet mom). So it came as a massive blow to me when my employers didn't embrace my plan as I had hoped they would. They do not want me to work from home at all, but they are willing to give me a flexible schedule where I set my hours (and therefore a pay cut will be incurred if I choose a reduction of hours obviously). I just worry about what this will mean for our household because while this is what I'm facing, Dave is facing a slow down of work caused by the recession. So if I'm taking a paycut and his business is slow, I'm sure you can figure out the math here. Granted, I have the option to keep my schedule full time---it's just that I have to be in the office to work. Therefore, I have 3 options:

1) Keep working full time and either find daycare we cannot afford or ask Dave to become superman and raise our child and keep his business afloat while bringing peace to the Middle East. Did you catch the sarcasm of that last sentence? Yeah, this is not a viable option for us.

2) Work a cut back schedule, say 6AM to 12 PM and suffer the financial repercussions associated with it and hope to God benefits don't get cut too. I can try to supplement my income with the freedom that afternoon availability would bring (while watching the baby of course). Anybody looking for a snarky writer to contribute to your next project? Anybody? Crickets...

3) Suck it up and stop bitching about this on my blog when there are people losing their jobs left and right out there right now. Why am I whining about this when I HAVE a job. I know. I know.

Problem is I'm stubborn and I have a hard time dealing with it when people tell me what I can and cannot do. When someone tells me I will not have time to both care for my child and do my job, that sounds to me like a challenge to prove to them I CAN do it. You can be damn sure I know it will be a challenge, but if you don't think I'm up for that then you don't know me very well. Let's just say that I'm not giving up on this.

Wow, are you inspired yet?

In other news, I've signed us up for a CSA today, which I am greatly looking forward to. If you're not familiar with a CSA, it stands for Community Supported Agriculture. In a nutshell, you pick a CSA participating farmer and buy a share of his crops up front. Depending on your farmer, either you select your produce from his list or he picks from his seasonal crops and makes up a box for you to pick up at a scheduled time once a week. This will be the first time we've been a part of a CSA and we've decided just to buy an individual's share (works out to $8 per week for 12 weeks). With the baby coming and not knowing exactly how much food we'll get from the CSA, I don't want to stress out about food possibly going to waste. I look forward to letting everyone know how it goes and sharing some recipes this spring.

CSAs are a great way to support your local farmer and get the best selection of pesticide-free produce in one fell swoop. Now is the perfect time to sign up in your area if you're interested, here's a helpful link.

Lucky number seven

So I’ve finally reached 7 months and I’m happy to announce that I officially walk like a cowboy. I wouldn’t say so much that I waddle when I walk as I saunter like someone that's been straddling a dusty horse since 2 days west of here. If I happened into a store that sold boot spurs, I would snatch them up right away just so the full effect of my cowboy saunter could be witnessed by all. I wish western saloons were not obsolete, so I could mosey on into one and order a shot of the hard stuff while glaring at the onlookers that were trying to avoid my gaze because I was dressed in black. Because hello, being dressed in black in a spaghetti western means I’m the bad guy---the pregnant bad guy in this case.

When I first encountered this pain in my pelvis that forces me to stroll around in such a bad-to-the-bone manner, I thought maybe I had done something to deserve the pain. Like, maybe I had been split-walking in my sleep or something. Then I realized this is the pain that those that came before me refer to as their pelvis splitting apart. I'm still amazed that as soon as I find out one of my symptoms has happened to someone else, it somehow makes it much more tolerable to deal with. Feeling like what I'm going through is normal lessens the pain and inconvenience of it all I guess. Plus, I've always wanted to be a cowboy, which helps make the pain easier to swallow.

So 81 days to go, which is pretty alarming. I stepped out my front door this morning and saw some tulip shoots starting to emerge from our flower beds. I smiled as I realized by the time those flowers bloom, we will have a new member of the family to admire their pretty colors. The closer we get, the more Carpe Diem my philosophy becomes.

Maybe all those doomsday naysayers are finally taking a toll on me. You know the ones that warn in foreboding tones, "you better sleep now, because you will...NEVER...SLEEP...AGAIN! mwuahaha." Or the ones that pop your happiness balloon and declare, "you better enjoy it now because pretty soon you'll have a baby and your life will change."

Really? My life will change you say? That hadn't occurred to me. Thanks for keeping me on the up and up in terms of what to expect. I was thinking that Dave and I could maintain our current lifestyle filled with hookers and weekend heroin binges. I don't know. Maybe people think we live some uber exciting life that doesn't work well with raising a family? I just hope that I don't become one of those prophetic bubble burster sorts after I've given birth. Don't get me wrong, I fully expect my perspective to change once I've become a mom, I just hope to not become a killjoy in the process.

So until I see those tulips open their buds, I'll be attempting to sleep late and indulging in all the hedonistic pleasures I can get away with while being pregnant. In other words, I'll be watching reality tv and eating bonbons.

Creating a budget friendly nursery

Over the past couple of months, we've been gathering some basic supplies needed to make life with baby easier. Between getting up early for yard sales and consignment sales in the fall, stalking craigslist and an obligatory trip to Ikea, we've put together a nursery we hope will make our little boy happy and comfortable.

Because I am particularly proud of how we put this room together for less than what many new parents choose to spend on a crib alone; here is the breakdown of what we spent on our nursery:

2 gallons low VOC paint from Lowes---$56

Crib (including mattress!) was purchased from a friend---$75

Dresser was purchased off craigslist---$75

Glider and ottoman purchased off craigslist---$60

Bookcase & green cloth toy baskets from Target---$60

Steel lamp & orange shade from Ikea---$27

Orange circle rug from Ikea---$9

Steel shelf from Ikea---$20

Paul Frank alphabet flashcards from Amazon---$10

Bamboo blinds from Lowe's---$50

Natural wood frames from Jerry's Artorama---$13 each

Of course, none of this would have been possible without my favorite husband. He did all of the painting, measuring, drilling, and assembling while thinking about the little boy that will soon help him on such projects in the future.

So baby, if you're reading this, we want you to know that we are prepared for your arrival. And until you're ready to make your appearance, your father and I will be hanging out in your nursery dreaming up ideas of what you will be like.

Last chance to sleep late on Christmas

After a ten and a half hour drive, a half dozen bathroom breaks and much snacking, we have arrived safely to my hometown in western PA. Although the weather is the usual overcast and rainy, there is still snow on the ground here! The Christmas cheer running through the air is thick, noggy and caked in nutmeg. Why look at that, I've made myself hungry. Please excuse me while I grab my one millionth cookie of the day.

On the baby countdown front, it's Christmas day and I believe we're down to about 99 days left in this pregnancy. That's crazy to think about. I can't help but look ahead to next Christmas and spending it with our new little person. I should say new little people actually, because there will be quite a few newbies born into my immediate world in the coming year. Granted, I'm only in charge of one of them, but I'm just as excited to meet the future cousins and friends of our bean as well. I feel so lucky that we get to witness all of these new people being born into the world that will be a part of our child's life forever more.

Maybe it seems silly for me to take this all so seriously now that I am the one finally giving birth, but I am thinking back to my brothers and me growing up surrounded by all of our cousins and friends. I look at those old pictures now from many Christmases ago and realize how we took all of that extended family for granted to an extent. Now in my thirties, some of those old relationships are being rekindled as life slows down and I'm realizing how formative and important those relationships really are. We may age, but we are still those same kids at heart and we always will be. There will always be lifetime bonds between those people that stood along side us as we all grew up together regardless of how life changes us along the way. Those memories are my favorite Christmas movie to play back in my head and even more special is only a select few of us know how our particular movie goes. I can't wait to meet the characters that will be part of my child's unique life movie. I hope our kid is blessed with a supporting cast as colorful and warmhearted as his father and I have had throughout our lives.

Merry Christmas everybody, may you have much joy and happiness in the new year.

Jingle bills

Is it just me or is Christmas getting crazier and crazier every year? Between the shopping, gift wrapping, decorating, sending out the cards, going to the holiday parties, and driving to our destinations, little time is left for what the holiday is supposed to be about. Speaking of which, what is this holiday season supposed to be about anymore? I don't ask sarcastically. I really don't know and it bothers me even to say that. I mean, I know that Christmas marks baby Jesus' birth and I seem to recollect some "goodwill to men" is supposed to be thrown in there. But what has happened to the modern Christmas? I don't see nearly enough goodwill going around, especially as I hear stories on the news of a store clerk being trampled by the crowd during the opening of a Walmart on Black Friday. What a sad state it all is.

This is going to sounds terrible, but in a weird way I was happy about the economic crisis and recession because I hoped it would translate to a reigned-in Christmas. I thought that people would be forced to maybe hand make presents or bake something yummy in place of the latest gadgetry out of necessity. Or maybe I thought we would all agree to not buy anything for each other this year because spending time together is all that matters anyway. No really, I know we say that every year, but it's true.

My husband and I have set $40 limits on spending for each other every Christmas we've been together. I think one particular year we bought a front door for the house in lieu of any gift at all. This Christmas we're going to refinance our house because we're merry like that. So I can tell you from experience that not having lavish gifts and even no gifts at all still makes for a very jolly day. The trick to our success is agreeing upon the terms up front...haha, ho ho ho. That sounds so business-like for someone seemingly judging how cold Christmas has become. But it's just easiest to agree beforehand as to avoid any awkwardness and guilt later on.

I think it's safe to say that most people want to match the amount they spend to the amount spent on them, but not because they only want to give exactly what they have to and no more. But because they want everyone to feel good about the exchange, both the gifter and the giftee.

Problem is setting such limits can often lead to gift giving feeling like the exchange of similar amounts of money. While that doesn't seem like a very good solution, maybe if you make that idea as extreme as possible, we could get back to the true heart of the season. For example, let's all agree to exchange $20 in cash. You give me $20, I give you $20. You give Grandma $20 and she palms you a solid Andrew Jackson right back. Then everyone watches "It's a Wonderful Life" and drinks eggnog, the end. The only exception to the rule would be those aged under twenty years. We could call the whole plan the Rule of Twenty and revolutionize the world! Simultaneously, we could destroy the economy completely! But at least this retail meltdown and final destruction of the economy would be for the right reasons and not the greedy desires that have caused our current predicament. Take that Mister Potter!

33 is a double magic number

I was so wrong to say that getting out of bed yesterday would be a painful experience. It was much easier than I anticipated. We showered, threw on some warm layers, poured some hot tea in our cups, put the finishing touches on the huge vat of spaghetti we made for lunch for all the workers and packed up the Element. We arrived to find men already up on the roof of the house scraping off the decaying shingles and met Lynn, the kind soul that is organizing the effort to fix up this house for the elderly gentleman, Mr. Horton.

From what I understand, Mr. Horton recently suffered a heart attack, which led to the discovery of the living conditions he had been enduring for the last twelve years. Lynn was called in by the state to clean the house and since that time, she has made it her mission to make sure he returns to more livable circumstances.

Judging from the solid brick exterior, the house didn't seem to be that bad off. But once Lynn took us inside for a tour, it became very clear just how sad this story really is. A tree fell into the rear section of the house where two bedrooms and a bathroom are located. Because Mr. Horton inherited the house from his father and had no insurance, he had no way to pay for the necessary repairs. So in the last twelve years, the elements have slowly finished off the rest of the damage---from black mold covering the walls, to rust on the already ancient non-working appliances. The cast iron tub in the bathroom, the only slightly operable water source in the house, opened to the dirt ground beneath. And the toilet sitting nearby was precariously balanced on a pipe that connects it to the structure. Thinking back to it now, i have to remind myself that we toured the house after Lynn and her cleaning crew had already been through it with their brooms and detergents. I can only imagine what she saw the first day she arrived to clean it.

After the tour, Dave and I dug into work. We started demolition work on a caved-in carport structure beside the house with a small group of other volunteers. In three hours, we sorted through all of the old appliances and trash which went to the volunteered dumpster and separated the wood, which was thrown onto a burn pile. A couple of the brutes brought the carport walls down while the rest of us scavenged the ground for more trash and wood. Meanwhile, shingles rained down from the guys on the roof above. While there were not as many people as I had hoped, the eleven people or so that were there worked as a very efficient team. They really are a great group of people and I would gladly go work with them again. Next time, I just wish they would eat more spaghetti, because Dave and I are going to be eating the rest of this pasta for the next week. Here is a link to some pictures from the weekend. By the way, if anyone is still interested in donating either time or funds (or both!) to this project, it will be ongoing for some weeks. Please just send me an email and I'll happy pass along all pertinent info.

Today is the one year anniversary of us living in our new happy home. Our life really has changed in the last year. I can say for sure that I am a happier person now that we found the perfect house that pleases us both. I take actual pleasure in sweeping the leaves off the back deck while I enjoy the view. We now have neighbors that wave at us as we drive by, greet us as we take a walk and sometimes even drop by to bring us barbecue. I look forward to introducing our newest family member to this house and neighborhood next year. I'm sure it will be a wonderful place to build so many new memories.

Today is also my 33rd birthday, which is much less scary and depressing than I ever thought it would be when I was a teenager. Thanks to both mom and dad for bringing me into this world and not following up on their repeated threats to take me out of it. I have a good feeling about this new year.