Redemption

Charlotte here from dosmamas posting at WTF’s request. First of all IT’S ALL GOOD. I don’t know what I am going to say…I’m still in an altered state after the birth and I am nervous to fill WTF’s writing shoes. Her wit and gritty realism are effortless. Anyhoo, she wants me to post about the birth on her behalf, so here goes, but first I must say thank you to them. I must get very mushy and tell WTF and her husband that I am blessed a million times over to have witnessed their darkest and most joyful experiences, to be their friends, and to accept their graciousness as they help us create new life for our family. OK, onto Tuesday.

Baby L is beautiful, and a whopping 6 lbs 4 oz, the biggest baby EVER in the WTF Rocket Man clan (they ARE now a clan, or a troupe, or something). We all kept expressing our disbelief at this LARGE baby. Heh. She looks just like their son, and is perfectly perfect in every way.

PTSD & THE LAST TIME

The last time I was at that hospital was to help them deliver LC (deadbaby). I experienced a bit of PTSD after that birth, so I started having flashbacks the moment I set foot in the parking lot of the hospital.

WTF in a hospital bed. The Lobby. The waiting room where I wept to my wife and my mom. Passing the nurse who helped us bathe WTF in alcohol and fan her 106 degree body. The room where she gave birth (of course without the small red rose they had taped to her door which meant “this baby will die: don’t say congratulations”).

Rocket Man and I overheard Fancy doc explain WTFs situation to the doctor who arrived to assist him in the C section. When he got to the part about WTF’s uterine infection, he said “she almost lost her life”, and I felt like I got punched in the throat. She did. She really almost died last year. Thank god it was sunny and daytime and not a stormy, rainy, scary hell night from hell. No, it was happy, lovely and entirely different. But WTF needed to hear her baby cry, before she could believe this was really going to happen.

GETTING READY

I was so excited. Rocket Man and I got to wear *scrubs*. SCRUBS! It was totally thrilling (I am easily entertained). But my excitement was soon dashed, when WTF said I looked like a LUNCH LADY. She then had a ginormous belly laugh when I exclaimed “WHY do I look like the lunch lady while Rocket Man looks like a surgeon???”. I think you had to be there, seeing us both in our weird blue paperfabric scrubs including blue paperfabric shower caps, to appreciate the hilarity. I digress.

Rocket Man and I waited for 15 minutes outside the OR, while WTF got her epidural and got sliced open. We waited in a chair similar to the chairs that Rocket Man has waited in before, twice, for their other two kids. He started getting nervous. Rocket Man is so solid, it is strange to see him vulnerable. He kinda looked like a lunch lady too, until he put on his surgical mask. I was happy he wasn’t sitting there alone.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Suddenly the door opened (just like Rocket Man said it would), and we were SPEEDILY ushered in (just like Rocket Man said we would) and it was ON.

REDEMPTION

We were all there. Almost. The original crew from Little Charlotte’s birth, ready.

1. The fabulous nurse who helped us all emotionally and medically. Nurse Kickass, I’ll call her. She has this way of petting a forehead that just makes you feel like everything will be okay in the end. Thank the stars for her. She pulled a double shift and slept at the hospital to be there for this birth.

2. Fancy Doc. How can I describe this man? 60ish. Short. Cocky. Kind. He showed up wearing some yellow tinted sunglasses one would find on a 20 year old, and brown leather shoes you would find on a gay man. He has an accent. Where the hell is he from? Germany? I think so. Anyway he’s a character, and his scrubs were very form fitting. Oh, and he’s really THE BEST at what he does.

3. Rocket Man. Dear lord this man is calm. He has to be, to be married to WTF, but still. I have grown to love him as I witness his unending love for WTF. He was sitting to my right, and we were both next to WTF’s head, behind the sterile field fabric (you’ve seen this on medical TV show right?)

4. Me. This was the third birth I have been at. Four if you count my son’s birth. My very first C section. I was the video person. That was my job. I did an OK job, all things considered. But I was so incredibly present in the moment, and worried about holding WTF’s hand at all times, so I was not as focused on the video as I could have been.

After much cutting, tugging, pulling, yanking and more cutting, she was born. Baby L. Rocket Man and I stood up and witnessed her emergence. Unbelievable. WTF needs to post herself about what it was like for her...I can only imagine.

I will post on my site this week about how gory and fascinating it was to see WTF’s uterus lifted onto her stomach, sewn up, and put back in (and her cerclage successfully removed). What a miracle the whole thing was. For anyone who wonders if a scheduled C section is any less miraculous than a vaginal birth, let me tell you (having seen both) that IT WAS JUST AS FUCKING AMAZING.

Within reason, WTF got everything she wanted: two people present for her C section, her own music playing during the whole thing, a big private room, and finally, at last, a scream.

A live baby put right on her chest.

Redemption.

100th post

I sent this email to family and friends today. Figured I’d post it also despite some redundancy.

"It's official. The amnio on Friday showed beautifully mature lungs. Tuesday morning at around 10 a.m. we will be meeting our daughter!

She's ready. I AM READY! Fancy doc is ready; this man, who is one of the best in the world with cerclages, has maintained excellent humor during all of my questioning and second-guessing. He says that he will miss me, as I am his most "entertaining" patient. He thinks I should keep the stitch in so we can have another baby. I tell him that if he wants to see me again that badly, we can have lunch.

The critical care nurse who took such good care of me when we lost LC, has switched off the night shift to do my C-section. This woman was so great that we sent her homemade cookies and a thank you note after the disaster. She has known my doctor for years and they are both very excited to see this journey come full circle with us.

Between my doctor and the critical care nurse we figure we can talk the anesthesiologist into making a few exceptions on our behalf. We plan to have my dear, dear friend, Charlotte, with us in the OR for the C-section; she was with us when LC was born and we are looking forward to a big, snotty cry together when we hear this baby scream! We'd also like to have some music; we've been unsuccessful in past attempts to convince the anesthesiologist to allow music. Fancy doc also said he would talk to the nurses about allowing me to hold the baby right after she gets wrapped up! In the past, I haven't held our babies until they were brought to the recovery room which is about an hour later. I had given up hope of holding the baby right away.

So it looks like this is really going to happen. Since the critical care nurse called to say that she was going to be there for my C-section, I've stopped wishing for early labor. Tuesday morning sounds great. I've waited this long, I can wait a few more days. Actually now it's less than 48 hours! Holy crap!

The hospital doesn't have internet access so nobody worry if you don't hear from us on Tuesday. At the same time I hate to leave anyone hanging after I've dragged you along on this tumultuous journey. We'll certainly make some phone calls but we'll also want to just be in the moment enjoying getting to know our daughter. Maybe Rocket Man can get an email off from a nearby coffee shop on Tuesday night. Once again I am baffled by the failings of modern technology, cell phones, crackberry and all. We'll really try to send an email by Wednesday p.m.

My son and daughter will be meeting their baby sister early Tuesday afternoon. Imagining that epoch event has sustained me through some worrisome times.

I'm signing off now to work on my "to-do-before-we-go-have-the-baby-on-Tuesday" list. Pretty standard stuff. Sterilize baby bottles and breast pump parts, pack up the cameras, try to get RM to install bicycle hooks on the garage ceiling so we can make some room in there. That last one is a little nutty. Call me irrational. I call it biological imperative.

I also need to have some carefully staged last-minute, giant belly photos taken. Absolutely no double chins, squishy arms, or excessive love handlage allowed. No small task indeed.

Thanks again for riding with us on this can't-even-come-up-with-the-right-adjective journey. Someday I'll probably wonder why I shared so much, okay too much, information with all of you nice people. For now I will take comfort in knowing that I did it because I needed to.

Fondly,”

WTF

It’s a go

Well the amnio results came back and the lungs are beautifully mature. The amnio was a piece of cake. The first of two test results came in before I even got off the fetal monitor. The second set came a few hours later.

So it looks like we’ll be meeting our daughter on Tuesday morning at around 10 a.m. Unless I go into labor sooner. I am really starting to believe that we are going all the way to the appointment. I’ve thought for so long that I wouldn’t make it that far. I can’t help but feel that way when I feel so much pressure and strain on the stitch.

So it’s Friday afternoon and we have a three-day weekend between now and the delivery. Woah. Tomorrow, we have two birthday parties for the kids and a block party with neighbors. A visit with friends on Sunday morning. Some last minute nesting business. Time to move the dresser/changing table out of my daughter’s room into our room. Time to move the rocking chair also but I’m not sure how my daughter will handle that. Breastfeeding gear needs to be sterilized. We need to choose a CD; music to be born to, tough call.

I put tiny baby clothes in the dresser yesterday. Diapers have been purchased. Stacks of burp cloths and blankets are ready to go. My bag for the hospital is almost packed. Big brother and sister gifts have been purchased. Fancy doc’s cashmere scarf needs to be ironed so it will uncurl. Cameras need to be charged up.

The hospital doesn’t have internet access. Hmm. I’m not sure how and when I’ll get a post up. Don’t worry if the news doesn’t come on Tuesday. We’ll be trying to balance being in the moment and making phone calls, sending emails, etc. I could have Charlotte post for me when she gets home but I already feel like I want to be the one to post the news. Thoughts? Suggestions? Personal experiences?

I have a similar dilemma with family and friends. Lots of people will be anxious for the news. However, I would rather share the news on the phone than through email. Not with everybody of course. I guess we’ll just see how it goes and we’ll make whatever calls we feel like making the first day. I guess we should probably have an email out by the end of the day? I don’t know. It’s much more fun to share the news on the phone but I don’t want to spend the day on the phone. I don’t plan to ever do this again and I want to enjoy every second of it. Hmmm. Nice problem to have, for sure.

One week to go

Today I am a little paranoid. Lately I’ve been worrying about things that can still go wrong. The cycle started this weekend when Rocket man and I went off for a little R&R or, I should say, pampering and decadence. It was a really lovely weekend and most of the time I felt like we were reveling in the last days of this pregnancy.

I started to worry when we got to the spa for our massages. This was the same spa/hotel where we stayed shortly before we lost LC. Back then I was big and pregnant and we were loving our two nights in a fancy hotel. I had a massage, pedicure and facial at the hotel’s fabulous spa. I had recently had my emergency cerclage put in so I was on modified bedrest but I was resting at a beautiful hotel. Disaster struck a week later, right after Christmas. Looking back at our time at the hotel, I had no clue of course what was coming my way.

So this weekend we went back to the same spa. It hadn’t really occurred to me that I could do without the trip down memory lane. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the robe with my big old belly, walking out of the locker room, it took me back to walking that path just before the disaster.

I was doing okay with it until halfway through my massage. I was laying on my stomach, which was supported by a big, foam belly support. I was really comfortable and loving being on my stomach, getting my back massaged. And then I started worrying. My belly was pressing against the table. The supports didn’t leave the belly suspended so there was pressure on it. I started to wonder what if I squashing the umbilical cord. Cord compression for 30 minutes? Could that cause brain damage? Was it reasonable to think that the cord could’ve been compressed by me laying on it? Did I need to start worrying about discovering brain damage at birth? Too late, I was already there. Kind of took some of the fun out of the rest of the massage.

At this point, I am still worried. Not so much specifically about the possible cord compression but about anything that could go wrong at this point. It’s like I am on guard, wondering if something awful will happen. I’ve heard so many horrific stories about full-term births that go horribly awry without warning. I know that something could still go wrong or be wrong with the baby.

I don’t want to worry about this but being at the same spa reminded me of how completely clueless I was about the shock I was in for. There’s no way I could’ve seen that coming. There’s no way to ever see it coming but having been there I can’t help but try to spot the danger.

I’ve been shocked so many times. By two surprise 11-week deadbaby ultrasounds, by a “surprise you’ll probably lose your baby blood clot”, by a disappearing cervix, and most of all by the infection that forced delivery of LC at 23 weeks. Is there another shock coming? I know that no amount of disaster protects us from another one.

What if there is something wrong with her that will be discovered at birth? What if our happy ending doesn’t come? This is my last shot at this? Three tries for our third. That’s all I’ve got.

It helps to think about my kids. When I think about how excited they are, I have to believe in the happy ending. I can almost believe in it for them. Almost.

Maybe once I post this, it will be out of my system a little. I have one week, or less, of pregnancy left. I’d like to enjoy some of it. I really did enjoy a lot of the weekend. It was fun to be out in the world, waddling around dressed up with an enormous belly. Today I am too exhausted to have much fun but I have plans for the next few days that should be fun.

I’m officially off bedrest but I am quite limited by how uncomfortable I am. Gradually I am getting out and about. Hopefully I’ll get a little strength back. God knows I’ll be needing it.

The C-section is scheduled for 10 a.m. on Tuesday may 29th. Less than one week from right now. Fancy doc said he might not be able to get the cerclage out because there might be too much swelling. That wouldn’t surprise me, given how I feel downtown, but I wish he hadn’t told me that. I have ZERO interest in going back in a few months for another surgery, with epidural and all, to get this thing out. NO WAY am I keeping it in indefinitely. The infection from my first cerclage nearly killed me. NFW!! Fortunately I’ll have Charlotte, and a good anesthesiologist, to help me through the cerclage removal attempt that will follow the C-section.

Fancy said that the baby can go on my chest once she’s checked out and wrapped up. He will be a strong advocate for us and help us get the birth that we want. We’ll try for a third time to have some music playing. Charlotte will be with us. Fancy and the nurse that we liked so much will try to get us a double room. The stage is set for a full circle, happy ending. Now it just needs to happen.

13 days to go

Assuming that the amnio on May 25th shows mature lungs, I’ll be meeting my daughter on Tuesday May 29th at approximately 10 a.m. 13 days from now. I’ll be 37 weeks, 5 days.

Given that my son was 6 lbs., 2 oz. at 38 ½ weeks and my daughter was 5 lbs, 14 oz at 39 weeks, I am expecting the baby will be quite small. Hopefully she’ll be big enough to breathe perfectly and latch on well.

I have some slight doubts about whether scheduling the delivery early, so fancy doc can do it, is the right thing to do. I know that he is the best person to take out my somewhat complicated cerclage so that’s a concern for my well-being. But mostly I want him to do it for sentimental reasons. He’ll be away from 38-39 ½ weeks and I don’t want to wait that long. I want to deliver before anything can go wrong and before I go into labor with a cerclage in, which could be quite painful.

Basically I am trying to justify doing the delivery early. I’m pretty much okay with it and am counting the days, the half days. I’d count the hours if I could do the math.

I am really starting to imagine hearing a crying baby. I’ve turned my attention to getting things ready at home, organizing, packing my stuff, planning when my kids will come and meet their little sister. I’m doing the normal things that people do when they are getting ready to have a baby. This might be the only part of my pregnancy that feels normal at all, aside from the bedrest and the discomfort.

I know that something could still go wrong but I don’t think about that much. However, I will breathe a major sigh of relief when all of her systems check out and she appears perfectly healthy.

Yesterday I called the nurse who took care of me when I was in intensive care during the big nightmare. She remembered me; I figured she would. She was so happy to hear that we were coming back soon to bring things full circle. She said she’d try to switch from the night shift so she could be present for the delivery. The nurses were so amazing. There are two others that I’d also like to see again. It’s pretty exciting to be thinking about the delivery and hospital stay. I am so looking forward to chilling in the hospital and marveling over the baby.

It doesn’t seem real that this is going to happen. With my other two kids, it didn’t really hit me until I heard them cry. It was only then that the baby seemed like a baby, a whole separate person and not a part of my body anymore.

This next paragraph is from an email that I sent to family and friends recently. It’s easier to explain that than try to make the font match.

"I can imagine hearing her first cry. I've been waiting for that moment since that awful day in December 2005 when my doctor told me that LC had to be delivered even though she was too little to live. There was a baby being born right across the hall at that very moment. Somehow when I was hearing that baby's first cries I was blessed with the certainty that that would be us again someday, hearing our baby cry for the first time. It must have been grace visiting me in that moment, helping me bear the utter heartbreak of it all. That faith has been with me all along, it's just been buried under a layer of terror in a futile effort to protect me from more grief."

On a sad note, I am so bummed that the dosmamas may be losing their baby. Aside from my personal involvement, it just completely sucks that this is happening to them. I hoped they would never lose their deadbabyvirginity. I find that I don’t know what to say despite all of my experience with dead babies and people who don’t know what to say about them. The trouble is that I want to make them feel better and that is simply not within my power. One of the best things anybody ever said to me was simply, “How’s today?” (Too bad that was Evil Shadow Pregnancy and she later bailed out of my life in a most spectacularly godawful way.)

Back to the mamas, I am selfishly bummed that Charlotte may be at my delivery full of sadness instead of joy. I know that she’ll be present and thrilled and all of that but I know that she’ll have mixed feelings. I wish for all of us that our birth could coincide with them being 10 weeks along and full of happiness.

I couldn’t seem to finish that thought. I needed a curse word but couldn’t find the right one. I am reminded of how it felt, described above, when we got the bad news about LC while the baby was being born across the hall. I can only wish for the mamas that they feel the certainty that I did that one day they’ll be hearing their baby cry for the first time. Without that faith, I would have been hopelessly lost, not that I didn’t feel hopelessly lost most of the time anyway.

On a happier note, I’ve got less than two weeks to enjoy my last pregnancy ever. Tomorrow I’ll see fancy doc and I expect to be released from bedrest. At 36 weeks the chance of a NICU admission has dropped significantly and I can wish for my water to break with a clear conscience. Hopefully I’ll last through the weekend however so Rocket Man and I can enjoy a night in the city, some serious spa treatments, and a couple of great meals. Lord knows we deserve the pampering and decadence.

13 days.

20 days to go

Saw fancy doc today. He checked my cervix and he finally told me something that seems in line with what I’m feeling. He said that my cervix is softening and that he can feel the baby’s head pressing on the stitch. Yes, that makes sense. That’s why I feel like I’m carrying a bowling ball way down low and that it’s being held in only by a stitch in my cervix. Ouch.

I’m sure everybody in my life is tired of hearing me complain. Lord knows I am tired of it but bottom line is still that it really, really hurts. When I do lug my ass out of this couch, I can barely walk around. I stagger. I pant. I heave and groan. My uterus is constantly seized up with a contraction, especially when I am up and around. My left labia is throbbing and feels like it might explode (that’s kind of an unrelated gripe). When on the couch, now I need a pillow between my thighs and behind my back to ease the discomfort. Going to sleep has become something to face at the end of the day. I’m a wreck.

I am so damn uncomfortable. The medication is helping a little but not so much during the day. The contractions are pretty frequent during the day especially when I am up. At night, they still wake me up, four, five, six times a night. I dream about having one and then wake up in the middle of it. Funny how they say that you need to stay well-hydrated to minimize the contractions but a contraction on a full bladder….those are the worst. They are approaching labor contractions which can best be described, as far as I’m concerned, as feeling like a giant is wringing out the lower part of the uterus like a dishtowel. The pain is sharper and it lasts a good two minutes. I have trouble going back to sleep and then only to get woken up by another contraction.

I’m 35 weeks on Thursday, thank the lord. Fancy still hasn’t sprung me from bedrest, not that it matters much at this point. I can barely get around my house, let alone out and about.

At this point it’s all about the secondary gain. If I can hang in there for one more week (I can), then the chance of a NICU stay goes down by 40%. I didn’t come all this way, through nearly two years of hell and terror and deadbabies, to have to visit my daughter in the NICU or to have to her fed through a tube or a bottle because she’s too little to latch on properly. As it is, I’ll have to wait an hour to hold her while I get stitched up and she gets carted off to the nursery.

21 days. Almost 20 now because it’s 7 p.m. here.

I try to remind myself that I am doing this for my daughter. It’s hard to wrap my brain around that because until recently I haven’t believed that she would even live. It’s been hard to connect with her.

I’ve been going through a lot of baby clothes and that has helped me to imagine a baby in them. A live baby. The kind that comes home in a carseat. Not a box of ashes. I think I’m really getting there; that is, I am pretty optimistic everything will be okay and three weeks from this morning I’ll be meeting the baby I waited so long for.

34 weeks, 5 days and I am just now believing that she is going to be okay. Not that I don’t think about things that could go wrong from here. But I don’t think about them much. She has to be okay. I have little choice but to believe that.

I packed some clothes for her to come home in. Teeny, tiny ones for 5-7 lb. babies. They are so darn cute. I need to pick a CD for the C-section. I need to pack my stuff.

I am looking forward to the birth obviously and then the PEACE AND QUIET of the hospital. After we had our daughter, it was like being on vacation. It’s a great hospital. The nurses were so great we didn’t want to leave after either of our kids was born. Hell, the nurses were so great, we sent them cookies and a thank-you note even after we had a dead baby. Now that’s sayin’ somethin’.

I can hardly wait to have my body back, sort of, and to not be in pain anymore. I’ve had three C-section surgeries (1st was to remove a fibroid) and I would gladly swap that discomfort for this. At least pain meds can take away incision pain; this pain and discomfort is round the clock and really can’t be relieved except by having the baby and it’s been weeks. C-section?! Bring it on. Except not yet.

20 days. 20 days. 20 days. Almost 19 and that’s in the teens. Less than three weeks. 20 days. 20 days. 20 days til I meet my daughter.

Off the ledge, again

Okay, okay I’m back. Sanity and equilibrium have been restored. Two nights of sleep helps also. A good talk with Charlotte (at dosmamas) and a heart-to-heart with fancy doc and we’re back in business.

Let’s just say I was sleep-deprived for one. Waking up at 1 with really painful contractions that kept me up, panting, worrying, experiencing aftershocks, having more contractions really sucked. I would stay up til 5 or so, read myself back to sleep and then get some rest until 8 or so, in between more contractions. I seriously felt like I was in early labor, FOR DAYS. My lower back hurt, I had period-like cramps, I could barely walk around without staggering. It wasn’t pretty. Still isn’t actually.

I saw fancy doc on Monday. The non-stress test nurse confirmed that nighttime is, inexplicably, the worst time for contractions in women trying to hold off pre-term labor.

Not sleeping was making everything worse. That’s when I started to think, “let’s just have the baby already because I’ll get more sleep with a newborn and I wont be in so much pain, even with a c-section recovery."

After seeing fancy doc on Monday, I was convinced that I should take the procardia and I have had two decent sleeps. Ahhhh.

The procardia doesn’t seem to have much effect on my daytime contractions and I am still REALLY uncomfortable when I’m up and around. Maybe it takes a day or so to have an effect. At least it is helping at night.

In bigger news, WE HAVE A DELIVERY DATE!! If not sooner, then on Tuesday May 29th our daughter will be delivered by C-section, no doubt sometime in the morning. The baby will be 38 weeks minus two days. Fancy doc will do the delivery and leave, two days later, for wherever the hell he is going.

It really helps me to have an end in sight and a date on the calendar. Our previous plan was a little too uncertain. So on Friday May 25th we’ll do an amnio to check lung maturity. Fingers crossed for that. The baby will be 37 weeks, 1 day so hopefully her lungs will look ready.

The delivery is 27 days away. I can deal with 27 days. I can’t deal with "maybe we'll do it, maybe not, maybe a doctor I’ve never met will do it while fancy is away." True, the lungs might be ready but for now I’ll just believe that they will be.

I had another non-stress test and my traitor uterus produced one contraction. I had them constantly after I stood up and walked out of his office. Figures. Fancy did get to feel one and I at least got to here him say, “Yep. That’s a contraction.” As if.

Fancy believes that I am contracting like crazy. I think that’s why he agreed to schedule the delivery. Upon examination, my cervix still feels good. I am finally realizing that my cervix, despite how damn uncomfortable it feels to me, is going to continue to feel good to him until I am actually in labor. I have ceased to expect that he will ever frown and say “hmm” or anything like that. That stitch is so strong and it apparently is no match for even my worst contractions.

What else? Charlotte was able to remind me how much I don’t want to have my baby go straight to the NICU after her birth and that I don’t want to have to visit her there or bring her brother and sister in there and have to leave the hospital without her. After all of this, I at least want her to go straight to her daddy’s arms and then to me in the recovery room. I lost sight of that goal and I’ve got it back thankfully. I know how sad and disappointed I’d be with a stay in the NICU especially if I’d given up trying to avoid it.

I am just now wondering if she might have to go to the NICU at 37 weeks, 5 days. Hmm.

I’ve been so damn uncomfortable that my weekly outings are not much fun. I skipped last week’s preschool drop-off and mommy-and-me because I just didn’t have the strength or energy. I did go to a tball game but was really uncomfortable even in my stupid-ass lawnchair.
My outings, and the promise of future outings, were what was keeping me going. Getting off bedrest and being out and about was one of the carrots dangling in front of me. I was living for it actually. For that and a live baby.

Hopefully with some good sleeps and reduced contractions, I’ll be able to get up and out a little and celebrate the end of a LONG road. I had a beautiful shower with wonderful friends, I have incredible pictures of me and my big belly with my kids, I have some fond memories of my kids “playing” with their sister. I have a very busy little girl living inside of me who does not like having a laptop resting on her. Hopefully I can add a few more pleasant pregnant experiences and then be done with pregnancy FOREVER.

There are a few end-of-the-school-year festivities that I’d like to make it to. On Friday, my son will literally dance around a maypole with a bunch of other little people and then we will picnic. Can’t miss that. Next weekend is the preschool auction, the event of the year. I’ve been hoping to make it to that. There’s a beach day the week after. Not sure how I would traverse a sandy beach in this condition but some facetime with the big blue would do wonders for my frame-of-mind.

Then there will be my son’s “celebration” at school where he crosses the rainbow bridge, a metaphor for giving up his angel wings and choosing to be born to us. Oh jesus, crying already. Must not miss that. Actually it would be rescheduled if need be. There’s no way I’ll miss that if they have to wheel me in there on a stretcher.

So lots to look forward to in the next few weeks. And we have to get ready for the baby. Time to wash some tiny clothes. Holy crap, we’re havin’ a baby.