35 Weeks
Honeydew Melon
Little dude is now about 5.5 lbs. and 18 inches long (crown to heel). My concern about him still being head-up has been mitigated by lots of support from friends and my midwife. I've been doing some exercises, and there is the possibility of an external version at 37 weeks (so, basically, right after my next appointment). I'll also have to have a Group B Strep (GBS) screen at the next appointment so they can determine if I'll need antibiotics during labor and birth.
Sleep is elusive at this point. Not because I'm not tired... I am SO tired. It's not as bad as the first trimester, when everything was ridiculously exhausting. However, by the end of the day, I'm beat. Hubby says he will just pretend I have the flu so he won't be surprised at how frequently he finds me taking rest breaks on the couch.
The infuriating thing is that most websites talk about how getting good sleep now is very important because of the certain deprivation I'll have in a few short weeks. They, of course, say nothing about why a woman at this stage of pregnancy might wake up from a dead sleep at 3 AM for no reason. No, the baby is not wiggling around. No, I'm not about to pee myself. No, I wasn't uncomfortable. Just.... awake. I believe it to be training for what will surely come later. But it still makes me mad because I already know what will come later. I just want to sleep now, while I still can.
Five weeks to go (more or less).
Friday, January 30, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Ready or Not...
34 Weeks, 2 Days
Cantaloupe or Honeydew Melon
At somewhere between four and five pounds, and about 17-18 inches in length, my little dude is nearing full term. We're under six weeks out from the due date. His survivability outside the womb is steadily climbing every day, and we are now to the point where, if he were born today, he might spend a few days in a NICU but be otherwise healthy and have no differences in the long run from other kids who were born full term.
While this is such an amazing relief, and a great thing, I realize that I am not ready. We currently have no vehicle that can accommodate three children. We have no sleeping space set up for the baby. I have not packed a bag. We have no diapers or wipes. I have yet to locate my nursing bras and breast pads. I have no burp cloths. I haven't gotten out any baby clothes (or washed them). I haven't even done the tour of the Labor & Delivery unit at the hospital where I'll be delivering.
Part of the reason is the mentality that we've done this before, not our first rodeo, it's old hat, etc. Maybe we're just not worried about it. Part of the reason, however, is that I have simply been far too busy in the other areas of my life to sit down and prepare. I just asked my neighbor TODAY if she could cover down on my other two kids until my mother-in-law could get to us and watch them.
I'm still worried that he won't turn in time to deliver. I'm pretty sure his head is up here under my ribs. I'm pretty sure I've had at least three nightmares of C-sections gone wrong or my medical rights being violated. I'm worried that the hospital where I'll be delivering will do silly stuff like continuous fetal heart monitoring and making me lie still in bed, rather than labor how I want. This concern would likely cause me to stay at home for as long as possible, laboring where and how I want, before leaving... which potentially could lead me to delivering at someplace other than the hospital - like in the car on the side of the road.
This baby will come when he is ready, not when I am. He won't know or care if I am prepared. And that's fine. Because no matter what, we will suddenly be as ready as we'll ever be once he arrives.
Cantaloupe or Honeydew Melon
At somewhere between four and five pounds, and about 17-18 inches in length, my little dude is nearing full term. We're under six weeks out from the due date. His survivability outside the womb is steadily climbing every day, and we are now to the point where, if he were born today, he might spend a few days in a NICU but be otherwise healthy and have no differences in the long run from other kids who were born full term.
While this is such an amazing relief, and a great thing, I realize that I am not ready. We currently have no vehicle that can accommodate three children. We have no sleeping space set up for the baby. I have not packed a bag. We have no diapers or wipes. I have yet to locate my nursing bras and breast pads. I have no burp cloths. I haven't gotten out any baby clothes (or washed them). I haven't even done the tour of the Labor & Delivery unit at the hospital where I'll be delivering.
Part of the reason is the mentality that we've done this before, not our first rodeo, it's old hat, etc. Maybe we're just not worried about it. Part of the reason, however, is that I have simply been far too busy in the other areas of my life to sit down and prepare. I just asked my neighbor TODAY if she could cover down on my other two kids until my mother-in-law could get to us and watch them.
I'm still worried that he won't turn in time to deliver. I'm pretty sure his head is up here under my ribs. I'm pretty sure I've had at least three nightmares of C-sections gone wrong or my medical rights being violated. I'm worried that the hospital where I'll be delivering will do silly stuff like continuous fetal heart monitoring and making me lie still in bed, rather than labor how I want. This concern would likely cause me to stay at home for as long as possible, laboring where and how I want, before leaving... which potentially could lead me to delivering at someplace other than the hospital - like in the car on the side of the road.
This baby will come when he is ready, not when I am. He won't know or care if I am prepared. And that's fine. Because no matter what, we will suddenly be as ready as we'll ever be once he arrives.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Final Descent
33 Weeks, 3 Days
Honeydew Melon, or Pineapple
Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our final descent into the universe. Please return your tray tables and seat backs to the upright and locked position.
I am, apparently, carrying "low" or the baby has "dropped" according to at least a half dozen friends and family members. Of course, as a short person, it only means that I can't feel my ribs expanding, like, EVERY SINGLE SECOND. The rib pain is just the worst to me. Of course, there's more pain coming from the ever-stretching (and probably not ever returning to normal) ligaments in my lower abdomen.
I've been a bit concerned that this baby hasn't turned himself around to be ready for landing. At my last appointment a couple of weeks ago, he was still head-up. I have had multiple nightmares about having to have a cesarean because he didn't turn around for delivery. I mean, surely there must be some way to convince an unborn to rotate, right? Well, according to Spinning Babies, yes... there are ways. So I will be trying some of the less intense ones, like putting an ice pack on top of my tummy and playing music by my pubic bone. I have my next appointment in a couple of weeks, so I'll see what the midwife says then.
I don't want to negate anyone's birth experience. But I am really wanting to avoid a c-section. In my dreams, the surgeons keep telling me there is no other option and that they will totally sedate me for the surgery. I get furious because not only am I not getting the birth I want, but I am totally taken out of the equation so that I cannot even see my baby enter the world. In fact, I am kind of the last person in the room to know he has arrived because I have to wake up from anesthesia. That means, no kangaroo care, no skin-to-skin, no immediate nursing, no chance to tell my baby that it's okay, I'm here. I cannot stress how much I really, REALLY do not want that to be how my son enters this world. I want him to know me, smell me, and know he is okay. Really, a sedated cesarean takes away literally ALL of the things I want in my birth plan. It makes me sad, and angry, and sad again.
I'm not ready for this baby, clearly, because I have not yet scheduled my tour of labor and delivery. I haven't delivered at this hospital before, and so it might be important to, y'know, find out more about it. Especially their policies, given my fear of surgical intervention. I need to know how long before they're like, "Okay, lady, we've let you labor for a while. Now it's our turn." I have to make the call.
Honeydew Melon, or Pineapple
Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our final descent into the universe. Please return your tray tables and seat backs to the upright and locked position.
I am, apparently, carrying "low" or the baby has "dropped" according to at least a half dozen friends and family members. Of course, as a short person, it only means that I can't feel my ribs expanding, like, EVERY SINGLE SECOND. The rib pain is just the worst to me. Of course, there's more pain coming from the ever-stretching (and probably not ever returning to normal) ligaments in my lower abdomen.
I've been a bit concerned that this baby hasn't turned himself around to be ready for landing. At my last appointment a couple of weeks ago, he was still head-up. I have had multiple nightmares about having to have a cesarean because he didn't turn around for delivery. I mean, surely there must be some way to convince an unborn to rotate, right? Well, according to Spinning Babies, yes... there are ways. So I will be trying some of the less intense ones, like putting an ice pack on top of my tummy and playing music by my pubic bone. I have my next appointment in a couple of weeks, so I'll see what the midwife says then.
I don't want to negate anyone's birth experience. But I am really wanting to avoid a c-section. In my dreams, the surgeons keep telling me there is no other option and that they will totally sedate me for the surgery. I get furious because not only am I not getting the birth I want, but I am totally taken out of the equation so that I cannot even see my baby enter the world. In fact, I am kind of the last person in the room to know he has arrived because I have to wake up from anesthesia. That means, no kangaroo care, no skin-to-skin, no immediate nursing, no chance to tell my baby that it's okay, I'm here. I cannot stress how much I really, REALLY do not want that to be how my son enters this world. I want him to know me, smell me, and know he is okay. Really, a sedated cesarean takes away literally ALL of the things I want in my birth plan. It makes me sad, and angry, and sad again.
I'm not ready for this baby, clearly, because I have not yet scheduled my tour of labor and delivery. I haven't delivered at this hospital before, and so it might be important to, y'know, find out more about it. Especially their policies, given my fear of surgical intervention. I need to know how long before they're like, "Okay, lady, we've let you labor for a while. Now it's our turn." I have to make the call.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)