Birth Ball

This morning, I got it into my head that I wanted to find our exercise ball and pump it up to use for labor prep and during the birth. I have no idea why I wanted it so badly, because I had the dang thing pumped up for my last labor and didn't want it at all!

But today....I NEEDED TO FIND AND FILL THAT BALL!!!! (Remember a couple posts ago where I said pregnancy makes me crazy? Yeah. I wasn't kidding.)

Even though it has been over a year since we moved, we still have three spaces that have boxes and other 'unpacked' things: master bedroom closet, spare bedroom closet, and Narnia-esque under-the-stairs coat closet.

For some reason, I thought the big, blue ball would be in the spare bedroom closet. So I started there. I pulled out boxes. I pulled ligaments. I caused contractions. I grunted. I strained. I dug and I looked and I rifled and I looked. And no ball. So I put everything back. With more pulling and grunting and straining.

Frustrated and tired, I went to my closet. I found the pump to fill the ball. Yay. But after some half-hearted rifling through the closet, there was still no ball.

So I went and sat on the couch for a bit, because I was pooped. And I texted the Hubby, asking if he knew where the heck the ball was. His response: in our closet or the coat closet.

After a bit, I had regained enough of my energy to resume my search. The coat closet. So daunting. Among the things I had to remove from the closet: half a dozen coats and jackets, vacuum cleaner, chair cushions, Christmas tree, 3 sleeping bags, Christmas box, Halloween box, pull-up bar, box full of shoes we never wear, box full of gloves and scarves we use once a year, beanbag chair and footrest, and several random sand toys.

Finally, I opened the box I thought might be hiding the ball. It had a few game boxes, one of which was on its side and fell open to dump the entire contents into the bottom of the box. I found beach floaties, a tote bag that I needed 8 months ago, a bag of crayons, more sand toys....AND the birth ball!!!

And then I had to put everything back. (Commence more grunting and straining and pulling and contractions.) Our closet looks super organized and nice right now, though!

Then I realized that the plug was missing. It would be pointless to fill the ball and not be able to keep the air inside of it! But I was so, so tired. Back to the couch for a rest. I thought a bit about where the plug could be. I watched a YouTube video on how to make your own plug using duct tape (but I don't think we have any duct tape...of course). Then, I remembered that I typically kept the plug with my paintbrushes. (Where else would I keep it?!)

Paintbrushes were back upstairs in the spare bedroom closet. I had to move more boxes. Finally, I pulled out the "paint" box, which was really heavy...probably heavier than I should be lifting without having the proper control over it. Seriously, who knew that a couple dozen tubes of acrylic paint, a few blocks of polymer clay, and a crapload of fancy paper would weigh so much!? (Ok, now that I type out a bit of what is actually in that box, it makes total sense for it to weigh the equivalent of a small whale.)

And, of course, I had to empty the whole box to make sure I wouldn't miss a tiny, white, two-inch ball plug. The good news, though, is that I found it! (With the paintbrushes, where it belongs! Silly!) And that box looks super organized and nice now.

Boxes back in the closet, and no onset of labor, I headed back down the stairs. (Also, I gave the kids a bath while I was organizing the paint box, to keep them out of my stuff. So I had to dry the munchkins off and help them get dressed before I could complete my birth ball quest.)

Pump: check! Ball: check! Plug: check! I let Bug and Gizmo pump the ball up most of the way. Which was really nice, because they thought it was a fun game, even though I could tell it was wearing them out! Plus, that meant I didn't have to do the hard work. But I did finish it up and place the plug.

Then, I sat on the couch while the boys rolled around on the ball. We'll see how much I actually use the dang thing. I'm beginning to wonder if the hassle was even worth it!

Tissues and Kegals

I recently hit the 37 week mark of my pregnancy. Which means baby gets a "full term" stamp of approval, and is allowed to debut any time now. Yay!

But I am throwing Bug a party for his 5th birthday in less than two weeks, and I refuse to allow this baby to come before then! (As a note, Bug was born at 38+4 weeks, Gizmo born at 39 weeks...so my track record says I won't make it to 40 weeks.)

The hubs is convinced baby will come before the party. I think he just wants to stress me out! But there is a part of me that is worried that will come true. Mostly, the allergy part of me.

Spring hit the South full force a couple weeks ago, and a thick coat of pollen settled over everything. And my body reacted with headache, watery eyes, congestion, sniffles, sore throat, ad nauseum.

Most of my symptoms have let up, but I am still blowing my nose frequently....and productively. And every nose blow, I'm worried that I will either put myself into labor, or pee my pants.

Lazy. Crazy.

I woke up this morning determined to go to the grocery store for the sole purpose of buying on sale Easter candy. Specifically Starburst Jellybeans and Cadbury Creme Eggs.

Then I realized that I should probably make a more complete grocery list. ("We are almost out of milk, I guess.") So I planned our menu for the week and wrote out my list.

Then I sat on the couch and realized I was feeling really lazy. Candy? or Couch? Candy.......or couch?

Then lunch rolled around. And I still hadn't showered. But there was still time in the day for all that. And I lazed around some more.

Then I fell asleep on the couch. I totally wasn't planning on taking a nap. But I was sitting there on the couch already. And the kids weren't climbing all over me. And it was so comfy. And I was so tired (getting up several times every night to pee will do that to you.)

When I woke up, I had to change a poopy diaper. And I tried convincing the kids to put all the books back on the bookshelves (sure, they weren't climbing on me during my nap, but they were pulling every single book off the shelf). And then my dad called. And we talked for a while about politics (ugh) and tree frogs in the hospital (he works at a hospital in Florida).

Finally, I realized that we didn't have any spaghetti sauce to go on that big, yummy-looking spaghetti squash I was hoping to eat for dinner. So I commanded the kids to put the books back on the shelf while I ran (ha!) upstairs to take a quick shower.

Showered, dressed, kids' clothes in hand. And they even put away the books!

New shirts. New shorts ("No, just keep those underwear, I forgot to grab a new pair.") Socks and shoes. I grabbed my grocery list....AND a coupon. And headed out the door.

Apparently, once I walked into the grocery store, I was too concerned about picking out my bell peppers, that I totally missed the carts full of Easter candy and other paraphernalia RIGHT. BY. THE. ENTRANCE.

I got my fresh fruits and veggies and headed toward another cluster of Easter stuff. But there was no candy to be found...except for one lonely box of Cadbury eggs. I put them in my cart.

Then, over by the bread, there were a few more carts. And one had some Easter candy in it!!! I was checking to see if I wanted any of that candy when I realized the cart actually belonged to someone. I could have died. I apologized to the lady for trying to steal candy right out of her cart, and asked her where the Easter candy was. She said it was by the front. (I still didn't see it.) And then I tried to avoid her for the remainder of our grocery run.

Finally, I gave up and checked out. (And I forgot to use my coupon.) Then, as I'm pushing my cart out the door, I see all the candy. RIGHT. BY. THE. ENTRANCE. But it was too late, I had a gallon of ice cream in my cart already.

I felt miserable. Shopping with two kids while pregnant is no picnic. Plus, I had gone through all the effort to shower and get out of the house, specifically to get candy, and I was coming home with one measly box of Creme eggs....and a bunch of fresh fruits and veggies. (So sad, right?) And to top it all off, I embarrassed myself by rifling through somebody else's cart! I really felt so sad that I could have cried. And the coupon!! I always forget the coupon!

Luckily, I have a great husband who is willing to stop at the store on his way home from work to get me cheap Easter candy.

Then after dinner, I proceeded to eat oatmeal creme pies...instead of the candy that Hubby brought me. And if I wasn't typing this blog post, I would be lounging on the couch.

Pregnancy makes me both lazy and crazy.

The socks

This past Saturday, the Hubs took Bug and Gizmo out shopping. I spent a glorious morning cleaning the kitchen....and sitting on the couch browsing Facebook on my tablet. When they got home, Hubby made lunch, and then took the kids out AGAIN (despite the drizzly, cold day) to have an "adventure" out in the trees behind our house. Apparently, they looked at holes in the ground and built a lean-to.

When all the boys were back in the house, Gizmo took off his shoes and socks. He is really good at putting his shoes away, and his socks into the dirty laundry hamper (which is through the kitchen, in the laundry room).

Off Gizmo went to take care of his socks, when all the sudden I hear him crying dramatically in the kitchen. He came into the living room and settled onto my lap in a ball of tears.

"What's wrong!!!???" I asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No...."

"What happened? Why are you crying? Are you sad about something?"

"Yeah. My socks!" it was kind of hard to understand what he was saying, through all the tears.

"You're sad?"

"My socks"

"Your socks??"

"Yeah!" more crying.

"What happened to your socks? Did you put them in the laundry?"

"No. My socks in garbage!" even more crying. Really, very dramatic, very sad crying.

"You threw your socks in the garbage?" I'm beginning to understand, and I am amused.

"Yeeeeah." another breakdown of tears.

So Gizmo had accidentally put his socks in the garbage, instead of the laundry. And he was very upset about it. Especially since the trash had been taken out recently and he couldn't reach the socks on his own, to move them to the laundry. I'm sorry to say I burst out laughing once I understood what happened. Poor kid.

I tried to console Gizmo as I asked Hubby to retrieve the socks. Once Gizmo knew that his socks had been safely moved to their proper location, he calmed down pretty quickly. And with a sniffly, quivering voice, he said "thank you" to his father, for saving his socks.

Braxton Hicks Complaints

Although I've been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for most of my pregnancy, they definitely become much more of a bother in late pregnancy.

First off, my uterus is so huge and high up that my ribs are really sore (and ohmygosh, I still have over a month left to go, my uterus is going to get so freaking huge!!!) Seriously, why are my ribs sore? Wouldn't it make more sense for my uterus to be sore? My ribs are made out of tough bone, after all! But, then again, when I am having a contraction, my uterus feels like it is made out of stone. So maybe there is a reason for my ribs being so sore.

Now, these uterus of marble contractions are completely unpredictable. As they should be; BH's, which means they "aren't real". Which really is a load of baloney, because I know those suckers are doing something and have a purpose...even if they aren't actively dilating my cervix.

Anyway....unpredictable. But yet, so very predictable.

If I don't drink enough water: contractions.

If I drink water and let my bladder get even a tiny bit "full": contractions.

If Gizmo crawls all over my lap like he always does: contractions.

If I walk up or down the stairs: contractions.

You see what I'm getting at here. Pretty much everything gives me contractions. And no matter how much I would love to just go into labor right now and have this baby (really, there is no sarcasm there, anything to -not- be pregnant anymore)...he needs to wait at least 8 weeks, because I have a pirate party to plan and throw for a soon-to-be 5 year old.

Boy, boy, BOY!

A couple days ago, I called my mom for a "mommy fix". Basically, I was having a really crappy, depressed type of day (not that I haven't had these days for most of my pregnancy) and I needed someone to listen while I complained. She suggested to me that I go in and get an ultrasound to find out the sex of our baby. It would give me a little bit of excitement, and I could start planning names and layette...and all that other baby stuff! I had been very determined to go without an ultrasound this pregnancy. But I really did need something to cheer me up for the next 8-ish weeks. So, I decided I would make arrangements for an appointment.

The next morning, I called our family doctor's office. Now, none of us have actually gone to this family doctor, except the Hubs (for a work physical). But she came recommended as a doctor who is friendly toward natural parenting, and we were told she would be willing to take on our whole family. The receptionist on the line was rude. I asked if the office had ultrasound capabilities. She was skeptical about why I would even need an ultrasound. I briefly explained that my care provider is not licensed in the state, and could not order an ultrasound, but I would like one as proof of pregnancy in order to acquire a birth certificate. She then said they did not have ultrasound, but another office location from the practice did. (So all that asking about why I would even need one was needlessly nosy.) I got the number for the other location.

Then I called the other office. The receptionist on the line was rude. This receptionist had a list of problems with me asking about an ultrasound:

1. I was not yet a patient. (Why ever the heck can I not be!?!? I was told that the doctor at the first location was willing to take me on as a patient!)
2. Even if I -was- a patient, you can't hop around to the different locations (Why ever the heck not!?!? Isn't that part of what you do when you are in a practice!?!?)
3. I would have to have an appointment with the doctor first, and then have another appointment for the ultrasound. (Why ever the heck can I not just have the ultrasound as my first appointment, as long as I fill out all the required paperwork for becoming a patient in the first place!?!?!?!)
4. Rude receptionist doesn't even know if the doctor -would- order an ultrasound. (WHY ever the heck not!?!?! I am the one trying to -hire- the doctor, if I am asking for an ultrasound, there is really no reason for the doc to refuse to give me one!!!!)

I was pretty short right back with this rude receptionist. And I kind of, might have hung up on her after a -very- curt "thank you". And, no, I did not schedule an appointment. I did, however, promptly start crying after the connection was cut. Rude receptionists. (Later, talking to my dad, an RN, he said he was pretty sure "rude" was a work requirement for medical receptionists. I am inclined to believe him.)

So, I called the Hubby, in tears, to complain about having a really crappy, depressed type of day. I told him all about the rude receptionist, and all my worries about going into get a medical ultrasound anyway. (They are going to force me to get prenatal care, they are going to bombard me with fear tactics about home birth, they are going to call CPS on me......yeah...I think I have a problem with doctors!)

And here I was, trying to alleviate my depression by scheduling an ultrasound. And things were only getting worse.

After about half an hour, Hubs called me back and told me that we had an appointment for an ultrasound that night at 9pm, with a private company for an "elective ultrasound". I was hesitant (do I -really- want an ultrasound? what if they find some weird abnormality and I have to seek obstetrical care anyway? why do they make appointments so late at night?) but grateful that I didn't have to worry about it anymore.

So that night, we got the kids dressed in their pj's and drove to the ultrasound office. And drove around. And drove around. It was late, dark, and there were business offices everywhere, but we could not find where we were supposed to be!!! Finally, after carefully scrutinizing the GPS on Hubby's phone, we were able to locate the office. And we were still early!

We finally got into the ultrasound room. Belly exposed. Goo squirted on belly. Ultrasound wand applied and BAM!!!! First image very clearly, very unmistakably, very directly revealed the sex of our baby.

We are having a BOY! A BOY! ANOTHER BOY!

Cue shock, denial, excitement, sadness, joy....

I couldn't stop laughing. And then the ultrasound technician started making fun of baby boy's penis wiggling around (from my laughing). Awkward.

A boy! He has a beautiful heartbeat, big feet, a nice well-placed placenta. (I have a nice, well-placed placenta? We have a nice, well-placed placenta?) And no obvious defects or malformations....but it wasn't a diagnostic test, so, you know, take that with a grain of salt.

A boy! Poor Bug walked right out of the ultrasound room when we told him he was going to have another baby brother. (Drama much, 4 year old??) Gizmo doesn't get it yet. But Bug was setting his highest hopes of having a baby girl. He even picked out his favorite girl name (that we had approved of, prior) and he thinks we still need to name the baby this name. Uhm....no. But, if I can get over the fact that we are having a boy, then he can, too.

Speaking of me getting over it: I admit that I'm a little sad. This is where I start wondering if I'll -ever- have a girl. We want a big family, but what if we have 6 boys...7, 8 boys!? Can I do that?? I just have to remind myself that there is still time. And even if I never get a girl, I will still love all my boys.

I actually had a dream a couple weeks ago that I gave birth to a boy. He was beautiful, and squishy. And I was completely and utterly in love with him! I woke up with a strong realization that even if I had another boy, I would still love him. That dream was a tender mercy, for sure!

So, these last weeks will fly by, and we will welcome into our family ANOTHER little boy!

Pregnancy care: according to a 4 year old

I sit on our glider chair and pull my shirt up over my belly to let Bug and Gizmo have some time connecting with the baby.

"Wow! Big belly!" Bug declares.

For Gizmo, this activity mostly involves blowing big, slobbery raspberries. Bug, on the other hand, is much more mature about it. He places his little hands on my belly and rub it gently.

"What are we going to name the baby?" I ask him.

"Uhm, it's a girl baby."

"Yeah [you can keep thinking that, and I hope you won't be disappointed if you're wrong], but what should we name her if it's a girl?"

"Uhm, Mom. We already have a name for her."

"Well, what is it?"

"I don't remember. What is it?"

Then the baby starts wiggling, and I try to get the boys to notice or feel. I'm not sure that they do. But I point out where a baby butt is pushing out under my ribs.

"Where are the arms?" Bug asks. So I point out approximately where the arms would be, and then the rest of the body. Which leads to a discussion about why the head is down low, during which Bug announces that his head came out first. Yes, yes it did, son.

More raspberries and rough belly shaking from Gizmo. Whines from Bug about the amount of slobber. Wiping of the offending slobber. And vigorous rubbing from Bug.

"Do you want to talk to the baby? Sing a song? Or read a book?" I ask the boys.

"I think, 'Through and Through'!" (a favorite story for bedtime) So I recite the story, while Bug repeats after each line. The baby gets really wiggly at this point.

"I think the baby is tired." Bug coos. (We did just read the bedtime story, after all.)

"Nope, I think the baby just woke up! It's wiggling all over! Do you see my belly moving?"

"Oh, I think the baby is hungry!" Bug announces. I then explain that the baby is always getting food from my body and the food that I eat.

"Well, I think the baby needs some sunshine!" Bug then decides.

"But the baby is inside my belly, and can't get sunshine the same way that you do." I explain.

"You can go outside and open your mouth!"

"And the sunshine will go in my mouth to the baby??"

"Uhm......no. You open your mouth and breathe in air."

"And the air will take sunshine to the baby??" (I am getting increasingly amused and confused.)

"Uhm.....no. You open your mouth, swallow air, and the air goes down to the baby."

"Hmmm...well, that's kind of how it works, not really. Is that how you think the baby will get sunshine?"

"No." And then Bug gets exasperated with trying to explain it all to me and goes back to his attentive rubbing. And then I have to get up to go pee.