A brief rundown

At my latest prenatal appointment my midwife was concerned about a few things, namely my (at-the-time) unusually high blood pressure, swelling, and weight gain.  She called around to a few colleagues to get some opinions, but they didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know: I needed to have a full workup of labs done, right then, to make sure I wasn’t pre-eclamptic.  Because if that were the case, I would have to be induced.

Note: I had worked 4 hours before we left (sitting in a computer chair), sat in the car for 2+ hours to get to the appointment, then had to drive 2+ hours home, pick up a few things (including Marissa) and then had to drive 2 hours out to the hospital.  OH THE JOY.  Talk about elephant feet — by the time we got to the hospital, I could not bend my ankles or wiggle my toes.

I vacillated between zen calm and a “go-with-the-flow” attitude, and hysteria at the thought of another induction.  Bryan consoled me by letting me get a cheeseburger, swollen ankles be damned.

The hospital was super nice, our room was huge, and the girls were all excited to jump on the furniture and watch t.v.  The L&D staff was the nicest I have ever, in my life, encountered.  There wasn’t a bad apple in the bunch, not one, and I wanted to give each of them a smooshy hug for how sweet they were to all of us.

Several hours, a needle stick, and some baby monitoring later, I was cleared to go.  My labs were normal (no indication of pre-eclampsia), the baby’s heartbeat was excellent and well within normal ranges, and my BP was back to normal.  So, back home we came, getting in at about 6:30am or so.  And then we all collapsed into various beds/couches.

For now I’m watching my sodium intake like a hawk, drinking extra extra fluids, and putting my feet up pretty much every single second I can.  I have every expectation that we will still be able to have our homebirth — I feel great, the baby is very active, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it was a fluke.

To all of those who saw my twitter or heard through the grapevine and took the time to call, thank you.  It means a lot to us — really.  xxoo

Halloween time

I’ve been taking a break from all-things-baby to get as much costume sewing done as possible. I figure: worst case scenario, I sew additional diapers when the baby gets here.  We have stuff to tide us over (prefolds, soakers and longies, etc.) and really, Halloween is a Very Important Occasion.

So far Marissa’s has been the easiest (and cheapest) to put together.  She wanted to be Little Dead Riding Hood, so 4 yards of fleece, some lace, and a cape pattern later, there you have it.

She’s wearing one of those clear plastic masks in lieu of makeup and frankly couldn’t be any creepier.  Seriously.

Phoebe wanted to be a Fairy Princess (typical) so I just made up a little outfit, and she’ll have some butterfly wings and a wand to go with it.  Probably out of cardboard, because I’m not buying any more butterfly wings or wands.  I’m on strike.

Next up, I have to finish Charlie’s costume.  She wanted to be a “talking dog” so I found some brown fuzzy polyester nightmare material, and have the pants (with tail) and hat (with ears) done.  I just need to do a shirt, and snap a picture to prove to the interwebz that I’m the nicest mom ever.

And did I mention I’m 37 weeks pregnant?  This is my favorite picture so far, I think.  I can’t stop laughing every time I look at it.

The fair!

Charlie has been asking about riding the “horse carriage” (her name for the carousel) FOR MONTHS. I think she saw it on t.v., or in a book, or something, and mentions it about once a day. Maybe the people that run the fair heard our cries for help, and decided to put us out of our misery, because they rolled into town. With a fabulous horse carriage. AND cotton candy.

Fair day was miserable, overcast, cold, and rainy, but you wouldn’t have known it from the girls’ shrieks of glee. Did I mention how much Charlie loves the horse carriage?

West Virginia, I'd like to invite you to pull your head out of your ass

As I’m sure many of you know, we’re having a home birth this time around.  Part of the home birth experience is, evidently, to get a “home birth kit” from the local health office that has Very Important Paperwork (read: 800,000 pamphlets from 1970 about not eating lead).  At the top of this pile of Very Important Paperwork: a letter from the state, that says (and I quote):

The Office of Maternal, Child and Family Health does not encourage home birth.

I don’t know, maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s the bullshit I’ve been putting up with from incompetent idiots in various public service offices the last few days, but here we go, WV.  I’m giving you the big, fat, finger, you ridiculously backwards state.  I didn’t ask you if you encouraged home birth or not, so shove it.  Why don’t you reduce the number of (ridiculous) pamphlets you’re sending out, save yourself a few dollars, and hire employees that have more than cotton candy for brains.

Clearly, I need to move.

Feeling slightly accomplished

I’ve managed to get a few things done lately — two pair of slipper socks: one for Phoebe, and one for Charlie (naturally).  They’re adorable, and work up quickly (pattern from UnravelMe Designs).  I’ve also managed to finish up the fancy longies I made for the new baby.

My snap press came (lickety split!) and of course the diaper pattern arrived on the same day.  Clearly, the universe is telling me something.  Like, this baby is going to be (as babies are) a tiny poop and pee machine, so I’d better get my ass in gear and make some diapers.  Or something.

I’m itching to get my stuff out and get started on diapers AND covers, and of course I have a majillion other things floating through my head that I need to get done to feel like I’m fully prepared for the newest little.  Like getting more blankets. And socks. And shirts. And then some more shirts. And make Bryan a new sling.

When I start making a list like this it makes me feel dangerously close to the edge of freaking out, so I’m going to go calm down and eat a pound cake, and keep plodding along until I make a dent in some of this stuff.