Pink Prickly Pear

Rant-o-Rama

Dear Hospital,

Thanks so much for the emailed week by week updates on my pregnancy!    I'm so happy you actively encourage breastfeeding.  I'm grateful you encourage skin to skin contact for at least 90 minutes immediately following birth.  I'm glad my husband can sleep in the same room as us for the duration of our stay.

It seemed every time I opened your update, I was reassured that we had made the right decision in choosing your facility.

It was therefore disappointing to open today's message.  Unfortunately, it's a bit too early for "Congratulations and Welcome Home".  I'll file away those helpful tips for newborn care, but you see, I don't actually need them this week.  I may be past my official "due date" but we are still well within normal range for a healthy pregnancy.

Grouchily,
Triple P

Weekend round-up.

I know all you really care about is da baby... If his arrival, or lack thereof, is revealing anything at all about his character, we can assume that he's as stubborn as his big sister. 

Speaking of Mini-Pear, this morning she was invited to join the Black Belt Club at her karate dojo!  She's spent a lot of time and energy working towards this.  Her dad and I were watching the end of class through the window and watched her get called up in front of the class and presented with what looked like a certificate.  As soon as we saw the look on her face, we knew what must have happened.  She couldn't stop smiling all day.  We're really proud and excited for her.  She's made such an effort.  The skills she needs don't necessarily come naturally to her, but she's very determined, has been working extra hard, and talks often about wanting to work all the way up to her black belt.  It's great to see her determination and effort recognized by her Senseis.

*****

They both look like they are waiting so patiently.  The poor dog already knows who's in charge.  How will she feel when she's once again demoted in the pecking order?

I am trying to be patient.  Warm baths help.  Pretending I'm not pregnant and just getting on with things?  Sort of helps, but only when I'm sitting on my big exercise ball.  Otherwise, there is no pretending anything.  Sleeping whenever I can helps, because despite what the songs says, apparently night time is not always the right time.  Mr. Pear and Mini-Pear are most understanding of my propensity towards narcolepsy at the moment.  They were even most understanding of my completely embarrassing temper tantrum* yesterday afternoon.

At any rate, other than throwing temper tantrums, what did we do all weekend?  Yesterday we took the dog down to the dog beach.  No need for leashes during the off-season.  I perched on a sunny rock and took in the scenery.  The water was warm enough for Mini-Pear to get all the way in.  As usual, Tanky avoided the water as if it were molten lava or corrosive battery acid. 

After karate this morning, we decided to brave Costco.  We were running low on pretty much everything, but now the fridge, kitchen cupboards and pantry are loaded.  I had to take the vodka and the ice cubes out of the freezer in order to make it all fit.  The horror.

Later on Mini-Pear and I curled up on the bed with The Long Winter from the Little House Series.  We're at about the fifth blizzard or so.  There's no flour and no kerosene and the men's antelope hunt just failed miserably.  Pa just told Ma and the girls that the train won't be coming after all.  I felt a little guilty about our groaning shelves. 

Mr. Pear came home with a freshly washed dog and took Mini-Pear for a swim.  I can't be bothered to wriggle into things like bathing suits, so I opted for a bath at home instead.  Then I tried to make a little more room in the fridge by making a salad and prepping food for the grill.  I was supposed to marinate some chicken and after taking one look at the slimey breasts decided I was not up for job.  Perhaps this means my pregnancy induced carnivorism is over?  Perhaps this means my pregnancy is soon to be over?  I dunno, after Mr. Pear prepped and grilled it, I certainly didn't have any trouble eating it, but I did prefer my potatoes.  I quartered them, liberally doused them in olive oil, sea salt, pepper and fresh rosemary and then twisted them into a little tin foil packet to chuck on the grill.  They were so soft on the inside and nicely browned on the outside...drool.  I thought I was making enough to snack on for days.  There were leftovers, but only because it would have been a poor display of humanity to eat all of them in one sitting.

^{* OMG.  It was so awful I inadvertently ended up with a new catch phrase, "No more fruit!"  And seriously, what did that all mean?  Yes I was hungry and no, I wasn't in the mood for the suggested fruit, but really, what did I hope to gain by repeatedly howling "No more fruit!" and stomping off to dramatically pull the curtains shut in the bedroom.} 

No news is...

oh!  it's no news...

When I think of all the effort we went to because we were so worried the problem would be keeping him in long enough, I have to smile.

Here's my other son:

Why the obsession with facial hair?

Let's rename it Whensday.

It's Monday...

and it's still just the three of us;)  Slow and steady wins the race.

It looks like you are all hitting "refresh"...

I feel obligated to update;)

Maybe I'll try and unfurl like this flower instead of the other one.

So how are things going here?  Slowly.  This little boy wants a long, slow, gentle greeting.  And while I can appreciate slow and gentle, my body is starting to get a little tired.  Patterns that would have most mamas heading off to the hospital or calling the midwife to come?  After over a week of them, I know better than to think it actually means we're having a baby that evening.

I did go see Dr. Wonderful yesterday afternoon and he said he'd be very surprised if we didn't have a baby this weekend - then again, he was surprised I hadn't given birth last week.  Everything is where it should be - baby's in a great position, my cervix is almost completely thinned out and dilating...we'll see...

In addition to that good news, he did a brief cervical massage in case I have any scar tissue there that's holding things back.  If you're in the know, you know I don't even really go for regular massages - needless to say, one on my cervix was no fun at all, despite Dr. Wonderful's efforts to be gentle. 

Still, I'm really grateful that he is proving to be as supportive of natural birth as I'd heard.  During my appointment, I said something about wishing things would just kick in and get going.  His response was not to offer me a menu of induction methods, but to just commiserate and ask me what I was doing to stay relaxed and keep my mind off things.  He did mention sweeping my membranes, but followed that up immediately with how he didn't like to try and move things along before my body was ready to, especially since I'm going for a VBAC.

Okay, I need to turn my energy towards baby...

We'll let you know.

My Jedi mind tricks are f**king unstoppable.

Apparently, I am not unfurling like this big pink flower...

I am, however, living proof that one can have big strong, thigh tingling contractions every five minutes for well over an hour* and then not go on to have a baby later that evening.  Even if you have contractions all the following day...even if you start having them every three minutes the following evening...five hours later you can be scratching your head and thinking, "Well, I suppose there's nothing left to do but brush my teeth and climb into bed and if this is the real thing, it will certainly wake me up later..."

It's like that.  And that's the way it is.

Sigh.

Let's end on a positive note:

No one's ever stayed pregnant forever.

Praise chamomile tea and good mattresses.

^{* Let's not even discuss all the other regular contractions I've been having for days...}

Hrmph.

It looked a little like a certain someone was interested in making an appearance yesterday...or at the very least, starting on his journey.

But I think he must have changed his mind.

Not entirely unexpected.  This is how it all went down with mini-pear, except now I know not to get so excited I can't fall asleep and end up exhausted before we even get started properly.

My method for falling asleep?  Chamomile tea and podcasts which discuss anything to do with the Republican Conventio...zzzzzzz...zzzzz...zzzz...zzzzzzz...zzzzzz...

Why don't they just call it a day already?

***

Otherwise I am sort of enjoying not taking it easy anymore.  After all, taking it easy was all about not going into labor.  We're full term, I'm getting impatient and the rest of the Pears are making noises about me "hogging the baby", so, I'm no longer taking it easy, although this big belly thwarts my efforts more often than not.  Primarily the difficulty is transitioning from sitting to standing up.  I'm also keeping things pretty local, but there's a lot to do within the our house/Mr. Pear's office/the hospital triangle.  Most evenings, we've sprung Mr. Pear from the office to go splash about in the waves.  All the tourists have gone home, the water is still warm and the beach is empty;)

Any day now...

Baby Pear is hanging L-O-W (click here for a comparison photo) and, yes, I have pretty much given up on pants.  This evening it feels suspiciously like he's attempting to dig his way out.  I know.  That does sound awful.  Let's just call it a very intrusive tickle.

BP!  The original French tickler!

Okay!  Loopy this evening!

For a little bit there, I was feeling a bit finished with this whole pregnancy thing.  Not so much impatient, but sort of uncomfortable and large and shuffling.  I'm at the point where I require a daily nap, because I'm up half the night trying to ignore my all-gone-by-dawn contractions, but I feel pretty good - a little more energy, enough to make sure I get some good one on one time with mini-pear;)

I see Dr. Wonderful tomorrow*.  Saw my doula on Tuesday.  Mr. Pear is always available for light touch massage and sphincter jokes.  We have assembled SuperBirthingTeam2008. 

^{* If you so desire, you can see him too.  He makes a wee cameo appearance in Dave Stewart's American Prayer video.  He's the guy towards the end bouncing the baby.}

I got peanut butter crackers and I caught up on my reading

How's that for mundane?

I had my 32 week pre-natal visit yesterday.  Scheduled appointment time?  11:15.  What time did I actually get with Dr. Wonderful? 5:00.

It's not like nobody warned me.  I made sure I brought a book, a knitting project, lots of water and a granola bar. 

At 1 o'clock, a nurse offered me a snack.  I gratefully accepted the peanut butter crackers.  Just before  2 o'clock, she popped her head around my door, "Sorry about the delay.  You're next."

And then he had to rush to a birth. 

So I went home, made a smoothie and gave the poor neglected dog some attention, before heading out to pick up mini-pear from camp.  As soon as I arrived at the dojo, Dr. Wonderful's office called, "He's on his way back in!"

Mini-pear had spent the afternoon at the beach.  Her hair was sandy, wet and snarled.  Sand lined every last crevice of her body, including her eyelids.  Her rash guard and shorts dripped. 

I thought perhaps we should stop home for a shower, but she rustled up some dry clothes from somewhere in her backseat nest, "I'm okay!  I've even got a couple of books back here!"  So we were back at the office by 4:15.  I would have been seen earlier, but there was some last minute "procedure" he had to do.  I don't even want to know what it was.  Sounded like we were at the vets for all the caterwauling emanating from the next exam room.  Kind of undignified.  I think if you can repeatedly yowl the word, "Ow," it probably doesn't actually hurt that much and you are just being a drama queen.  Moaning, I can understand.  Same for unformed yowling, but "Ow"?  Give the rest of us a break.

Despite having waited hours to see him, Dr. Wonderful came in as if he had all the time in the world to devote to our appointment.  No internal exam;)  No ultrasound;)  No "Now, if you change your mind about this VBAC thing, we can always just section you."  No uterine rupture/dead baby scare tactics.  We listened to the heartbeat (good, strong, chugga-chug along) and then he very gently gave my abdomen a feel, "Oh, this boy's going to be just the right size..."

"You think?  Mini-pear was 8 lbs. 11 oz."

"He'll be a good seven lbs.  Just right."

That would be very nice indeed.

So, it was a very boring day and none of the chairs I rested my rump in were quite comfortable enough for my current needs, but I'm not going to complain.  I only have a few weeks to go.  I will put up with the long waits, because...well, because he's Dr. Wonderful and every time he farts, a fairy gets its wings.