I hate waiting

Still no baby.

Mom went home to check on my stepdad.

Michael took care of the kids and made a run to the office so that stuff that needed to get taken care of got ... taken care of.

I was SUPPOSED to have a scheduled induction this morning at 6:30 AM.
I called at 5 AM. No room. Call back at 9 AM. No room. Call back at 1. Indefinitely postponed.
Which was a huge waste of how cute my hair, outfit, and makeup was today.

I took a (second) shower where I sobbed. Tried to put on makeup again. Cried too much. So scrubbed off the foundation that I had put on. Screw it.
Called my OB at 2, when she was out of her meeting.

Labor and Delivery is full to capacity.
I have my appointment tomorrow. If there's no change, I'm (tentatively) scheduled to go in Friday morning at 9 AM.

THAT'S IN MARCH.

I spent most of the afternoon in bed, after a walk with Michael.
I alternated between reading, playing Mah Jongg on my phone, and crying.

I finally got up after watching an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras (see how far I've fallen????) with Miss Bucket.
She doesn't want to do pageants. Fine by me. I don't want to be a pageant mom.
Not like I have the money for it, anyways.
Then I got the kids into bed, since Michael and Mom took care of everything else before leaving.

Michael got back. I ate dinner. And ice cream. I think I'm going to take another shower to warm up.
And to wash some of the salt-water residue off my face.
My eyes and nose hurt.
My head and shoulders and neck hurt.
My feet are swollen enough to hurt. And they do. But, hey, at least I repainted my toenails yesterday, so that's something nice.

Debating getting my hair cut. Maybe I'll wait until after this gorram baby ever arrives.
So that's, what, sometime around 2015?

The bad thing about having a sense of humor is that people don't always know when you're NOT joking.
I asked my OB, between tears, if there were some anti-depressants I could take ... since I'm so unhappy about this whole situation. I want to stop crying. I want to NOT feel frustrated. I ... want to be numb. At least until I can get into the damn hospital and get this done. I want my feet back. I want to be able to wear shoes again. I want to stop being in a state of suspense 24/7. And, well, if it can't happen RIGHT NOW, I want to be numb enough that I can take care of my kids and the house and Michael and the animals without tears running down my face the whole time.

But, well, she didn't really give me an answer. I don't know if it's because there's nothing that'd take effect and be safe for the time being ... or, more likely, because she thought I was joking.
But, no ... I really was kinda/rather serious. I'm tired of being hormonal. I'm tired of my feet blooming over the tops of my shoes like some kind of over-risen bread dough. And, now, I'm tired of crying.

I just want to crawl into some cave somewhere until I can have this baby. This way, if I cry and am miserable, I won't be bothering anyone else. I won't have to pretend to NOT be upset/unhappy about the fact that I was supposed to be safely ensconced in a hospital bed, pumped with Pitocin and, perhaps, Fentanyl or an epidural and getting this baby OUT so that I have a reason to be tired ... and I'd be able to get rid of the edema in my feet and calves.I wouldn't have to fret about being bumped again and again and again from a scheduled induction. Or worry about which way this gorram parasite is facing or where her stupid hands are. Because it'd be OVER. And I could cuddle and nurse this little infant-inconvenience. ... And, really, once she's OUT, it won't be such an inconvenience.

I shouldn't be so resentful right now. Eventually this daughter is going to read this. And she's going to think that I don't love her right now.
I do.
I'm just covered in about fifty layers of frustration and prickles and angry bees in my head.

Though, really ... if she wants to stretch out as badly as it APPEARS that she does (Owww), I keep telling her, it'd be MUCH, MUCH easier to stretch out OUTSIDE my uterus.
But, hey, if nothing else, she's not one to ever make me worry about needing to do a kick count. She's an active little miss. Which is appreciated ... when it doesn't feel like she's trying to bruise the inside of my uterus. Just sayin'.

Okay. I'm going to take a shower.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Another day that I can't take Valerian or anything ... which I REALLY want to do.
But, hey, at least Michael's coming to my appointment with me ... so if they're sending me back home until Friday (which will mean that I will not be in ANY shape to drive), I will still make it home safely (and in time to get the kids from the bus).

But, hey, who knows? Maybe they'll figure out that I can't tell if I'm in labor or that I'm really leaking amniotic fluid ... and they'll get me in and get this baby born and then I can have my feet back again. AND a baby to cuddle and all will be right with the world.
Even though it'll mean that I'll be in the throes of sleep-deprivation ... but, hey, I can handle that.

Also, another nice thing is that Freyja-cat snuggled with me for HOURS. Which was sweet.
Especially while I took a nap. It wasn't a long nap ... but it was a nice respite from the WAVES OF HORMONES AND DISAPPOINTMENT of the day.

(Dang all these ladies and their ability to give birth without pharmecutical intervention! I'm starting to wonder if I'm just one of those ladies that can't do it. I mean, I'm having some contractions ... but nothing that I can't talk or walk through. Do you think it's possible that maybe my mutant ability is that I'm this powerhouse when it comes to pain? I do have my brachydactyly mutation ... so I might as well get some mutant power to go with it. Besides my mad movie-quoting skillz, that is.)

Okay, still shivering from eating ice cream. Going to take a shower. Now.
Who knows ... maybe my water will break. That could be fun. ... Depending on one's definition of fun, I suppose.

Catching up ... Again

So, it's two days past my due date ... and I still have no baby.

WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?!?!?!?!?!?????

And my stepdad is getting lonely and is antsy for my mom to come back home.

I HAVE been offered bacon if I make it to the 29th ... which, coincidentally is the date of the ONLY Kindergarten musical program my kids have this YEAR. *sigh*
So an AWESOME FRIEND (Robin! I love you!) has lent us her family's camcorder.

But, let's see what else I should fill you all in on ....

The kids didn't have school on Monday, since it was Presidents' Day. So we just hung around. They watched movies and played on the Wii after we did their homework. And I took a couple naps and read. It was a pretty relaxing day.

Michael got home early from his classes Monday and Tuesday. Which was nice.

Mom came up on Tuesday ... and she's been nice enough to stay up here, just in case.

The kids had their last dental-work visit on Wednesday. We picked them up from school and scurried over to the dental office. It was really nice that they both went back to have their work done ALL BY THEMSELVES. Mom and I were both there, in case they wanted a grown-up with them ... but, nope. They were total troopers.
Their dentist actually came into the waiting room to tell me how good and how brave both Bruise and Bucket are. Which is lovely to hear.

Thursday, Mom and I went to the doctor's. BabyGirl is VERTEX. FINALLY!
And my OB is sure that she had been vertex for at least a couple days. ... And she's STAYED vertex.
If the hospital hadn't been so crowded, she'd have gotten me in for a scheduled induction on my due date. But, well, there are all these other ladies going into labor ON THEIR OWN ... taking up what could be MY (or a bunch of other ladies who are waiting for induction) beds. Oh well.
So, we're on wait-and-see mode. Unless, of course, I have regular enough contractions ... or my water breaks.

And, I am having SOME contractions ... but they, well ... they don't really HURT. I can walk and talk through them.
Either they're not REAL contractions (they're a LOT easier than Pitocin-induced contractions) -OR- I'm either a mutant who can withstand lots of pain  ... or, more likely, my scale of pain/discomfort is totally skewed due to my kidney-stone episode last month.

I keep having strange dreams, though. In one, I killed a person with a Sharpie because he done my mom wrong. In another, I was killing a tarantula that crawled out of the wall at my Nana's old house. And the head was FULL of eggs. WITH EYEBALLS. Like each egg had a GIANT eyeball. Just the one each.
So strange.

In other news, My Bri's baby shower went really well. She got a ton of great stuff. Such cute clothes, too!
It was nice to make it ... even if it means that I'm STILL PREGNANT.

I've tried not to be TOO FRUSTRATED ... but, really, I was scheduled to be induced on the 17th. That would have been FINE ... but it just didn't work out at all. Even after I had been bumped from going into the hospital that morning to going in the late afternoon. *sigh*

And my feet look pretty horrible. My OB said, "I can't imagine how you fit your feet into your tiny shoes!" (I wear a size 8 ... so my shoes aren't THAT tiny. But in comparison to how swollen the tops are ... well, yeah, it is surprising.) She also said, "Oh! You're so deformed!!" But it was said with a great deal of sympathy ... I'm pretty sure. And, even if it wasn't, it was correct. My feet are SCARY.
DEFINITELY NOT SEXY AT ALL.

I've been so tired lately. And I eat like a horse. I'm ready to have this girl OUTTA my uterus. It's time for her to eat, drink, and everything else ON HER OWN.

I have a TENTATIVE appointment to PERHAPS come in to be induced on the 28th.
If nothing else, I have a doctor's appointment on the 29th.

Last she (my OB) checked, I'm 2 cm dilated and my cervix is HIGH (not effaced. DANG IT!!), but very soft and squishy (so it's cured ... just needs to get itself in FREAKING gear).

I need to repaint my toes.
I'd go get a pedicure, but I don't want to scare anyone with my sporting-edema-up-to-mid-calf legs and feet.

This much swelling, by the by? It doesn't feel nice. I can feel my skin stretching as I move my feet. Like, when I walk.
I have these fantastical ideas, which don't work, that MAYBE, if I were to poke a pin in my foot, a little geyser would fountain out and my foot would deflate and return to looking like a NORMAL foot.
But, since I cut myself shaving, I know that, no, they stay swollen and just leak blood. *sigh* Boo on that.

So, yeah ... I think that's most of what all is going on in my neck of the woods.
Some contractions, but nothing that I can't handle. I mean, I do end up feeling like I've been kicked in my lady bizness ... but I'm able to walk and talk though them.
And waiting. Lots of waiting. I'm sick of waiting. I want to be able to know that I can or cannot make appointments or whatever. Ugh. I hate being such a flibberty-gibbet dramalicious high-maintenence lolo.

And I really, really, really want my feet to go back to normal.
Is that REALLY too much to ask???

Lack of a clever title is just icing on the cake

So, had myself a good little sobfest in the shower.
But, hey, I sure smell a lot nicer.

I can't tell which way BabyGirl is facing. No freaking clue.

The kids have all but one page of their homework done. So that's a nice thing.

I have a load in the dishwasher. I need to see if the bathmats are (FINALLY) dry.

My waking up so early is catching up with me.

My doctor had me call her office and redo my appointment. I didn't need to see Dr. C, since I just saw her last week. But, the appointment is still having me go in on Friday ... And, when we talked about the appointment, it had sounded like she wanted to move it up in the week. So, yeah ... we'll see. Whatever. Either I go in on Friday ... or I go in earlier. (Hopefully no earlier than tomorrow, once Mom is up and the kids are at school. This way, if they want to keep me, Mom can drive home ... to our place, that is, and get the kids from school or whatever.) We'll see.

And, since I was up before 5 AM today ... it's starting to catch up to me.
Between the crazy hormonal insanity and my not being able to sleep as much ... Yeah, I am ready for a nap.
Maybe I'm just so irritable/emotional because I'm this tired ... or I'm this tired because I'm so irritable/emotional. Hard to tell. Whatever.

I wish that Michael didn't have these late nights ... But I can't control it.
I can't control, like, ANYTHING right now. Major suckage.
Especially since I like to be RESPONSIBLE and HAVE PLANS ... so I get my stupid expectations up that I'll go in, have an external version, be induced, have baby, ????, PROFIT!
(Okay, not really. But I'm a geek. Humor me by tittering at my geek humor.)
But, yeah ... Expectations?
DASHED.
Or, at least, they just aren't met.
CONSISTENTLY.

Whatever. At this point, I don't know that I care ... unless I think about it.
So I'm just going to ignore and thrust it into the Lord's hands ... HE can deal with it. I'm DONE.
I just hope that He's not needing me to have major surgery so that I can learn some VERY IMPORTANT LESSON ... Since, isn't that why we get trials anyways? Since we're not learning something that we NEED TO LEARN on our own.

So, if I can just learn things well from OTHER PEOPLE'S experiences ... and apply all of that to MY LIFE, I won't be needing all these trials, right?

I will be obedient. I will maintain faith. I will TRY to have patience (Though, really, it's easier when you don't have littles to take care of, if I'm going to be in and out of appointments. Just sayin').

I will be TIRED.

And I'm still missing my metatarsals. I haven't seen them, really, since mid-January.
They never call. They never write. I hope they're having a good time, wherever they ran off to... *sigh*

Okay ... the kids are content watching a movie. I think I'm going to go lie down and read/nap.
After I check the laundry.

I think I'm ready for Monday to be over. Just a little. Maybe since I've been up for about five hours ... that would explain why it feels so long already. *sigh*

Malaise ...

One of the signs of approaching labor is that you feel that something's not right.

Oh, heck, I've been feeling like that for nearly a MONTH NOW.

There's more uncertainty happening here than in Heisenberg's Principle.
How am I SUPPOSED TO FEEL?!?!?!?!?!???????

*facepalm*

(Yes, I did just make a nerd joke. Hey ... if nothing else, I've maintained SOME semblance of a sense of humor. I've cultivated it for years. SOMETHING has to make up for the fact that my feet are all puffy and nasty-looking. I miss my metatarsals. I miss how svelte my ankles COULD look.  I'm in mourning for my feet. And if this dratted baby would EVER come, I could have them back. ... I could have had them back maybe by NOW if she had just frakking COOPERATED on Friday. ... My uterus is still a little sore. Just for the record.)

My pregnancy-induced/-centered dreams are getting weirder.
My mad Google-fu skillz aren't helping.

Yesterday, IRL, I was looking up "how to tell if your water has broken" ... a big part is that (1) it's not going to be yellow, like pee; (2) it won't smell like pee; and (3) if you lay down (after putting on a pad) and then get up and it "gushes" ... THEN it's amniotic fluid.

In my dream, one of Michael's cousins bought an antique sports car. And a lot of antique luggage, which happened to belong to Grandpa C. And there were these blue-prints/technical drawings ... of fruit. Yeah. Don't get it.
And I was getting a little jealous as everyone's talking ... since Michael's East Coast cousins seemed to always be going on vacations and getting free hotel rooms and all. (IRL, I think the last "vacation" that Michael and I had was when we went to Seattle for our second anniversary. Stayed at a hotel and everything. A Motel 6 ... Yeah. Not as romantic as our honeymoon when we had a hot tub in the room. Oh well. Since then, it's been camping trips. Or trips with family. Not a bad thing ... but not very romantical or posh or anything.)

And then I realized that my crotch was damper than usual. So I went to the bedroom/bathroom ... and I couldn't really tell ... so I squatted over the sink (there are mirrors over the sinks in our bathroom) and relaxed. And I peed and SHOT LITERS of clear fluid in HUGE SQUIRTS into the sink.
"Honey, don't go anywhere," I requested (rather calmly) of Michael.

Then, flash forward to a playplace outside Red Robin (where, IRL, there IS no play place). Michael and I are lying on a slide. And there's no baby. Because, somehow, in my dream, I had been pregnant for MUCH LONGER than 9 months ... but it was two pregnancies ... and I had lost the first one. Then, quickly, before we realized that there even WAS a loss, was pregnant again ... and the baby still hadn't been born.

So.... yeah. Obviously, I think that I'm going to shoot out amniotic fluid like a pressurized fire hose.
And that my gestational period for this pregnancy is going to give elephants a run for their money.

At this point, though, can you really blame me??

... I hope those were her feet. Please tell me that those were her feet that just jabbed me in the ribs.
Please?
pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?????????

My Visiting Teacher came by yesterday evening. She even brought us dinner. (So I don't have to cook tonight. Which is nice, since Michael's in class. Again. ... Unless I go into labor or my water breaks. Then I call him, call Mom, and head to the hospital. I'll call Mom C, too. And probably a friend to drive me over. Just in case.)
But she (my Visiting Teacher) is SURE that I have dropped. ... Which is a good thing.
Maybe I'll eventually HAVE this stinking baby. (Though I hope that BabyGirl won't LITERALLY stink. Much.)

Mom will come up tomorrow.

I just want to cry. Like all day. Please tell me that this is labor approaching. That I won't be pregnant FOREVER. That this child will BE and STAY head-down.

Last pregnancy, I didn't MIND having the kiddos inside me ... but, well, they WERE better behaved. With BabyGirl, I think that I really want her OUT so that I don't have to worry anymore about which way she's turned THIS hour.

Crap. I think I feel toes on my cervix again.
*string of curses*

I'm going to take a shower and cry now.
And not JUST because she's pressing HARD against my (probably bruised) uterine wall.

Musings ...

• Whenever I feel BabyGirl's toes in my pelvis, I want to cry.
• But I hate crying.
• The bathroom is cleaner.
• I washed off the kids' shoes ... they were rather mud-caked from playing in the backyard at Grandma and Grandpa's house.
• I've decided that if we ever have a muddy yard, I'm buying a metric ton of bark mulch.
  Or sod. Lots of sod. 
• Especially if we have nice carpets inside the house. Like Mom C does.
• The bathroom's cleaner. Not at all perfect, but there's improvement happening.
• Poor Freyja-cat didn't have any water. So I gave her some and she chirruped at me.
  "You're welcome," I told her. And we were both happy.
• Also, last night, she was on the counter, observing the fishies in their tank. It was pretty adorable.
• The kids ask why we don't have a dog. (Their grandparents and great-grandma got a dog. So did their cousins' family. We did not.) I told them it's because (1) we don't have a yard suitable for a dog and (2) after all the cleaning up I do after THEM, I'm too tired to clean up after a dog.
  They claimed that THEY'D take care of the dog. Forgive my skepticism. We have a cat and a hedgehog and fish that they need reminders to help with.
  -I give Freyja water most times. I get Bruise to get her food. Michael, for now, cleans the catbox, since I'm pregnant.
  - Bucket feeds her fish (unless she's not here. Then Michael or I do it). We clean the tank. Well, now Iggy, the suckerfish, cleans the tank. Between him and the filter, it's pretty self-sufficient.
  - Bucket and I feed Sari-Jasmine, the hedgehog. I clean the cage and give Sari her bath. And clip her nails as needed. (Yes, I clip animals' nails. Even Freyja-cat's. Freyja is a LOT easier to do than Sari. Sari ... I have to do it by grabbing one paw while she's in her bath. I can get Freyja's while we cuddle on the bed. Or in a chair. Freyja does not try to curl up in a ball. And she's never bitten anyone in this house. ... Sari ONCE took a nibble of Michael. Can't say that I blame her. ... But, hey, that might be TMI. :P)
  - Therefore, with all of that going on, I do not have the time or energy, especially with a new baby imminent, to take care of a dog. Dogs are not cats. Cats are, generally, self-sufficient. Dogs are like another child. Fish are easy. ... Our hedgehog? She'd benefit from more socialization ... but she seems okay. Dogs ... are harder. And they needs MORE BATHS.
  I've bathed Freyja maybe once or twice in the year we've had her (Can it BE that long? It doesn't seem like it). She's less allergenic than Diana or Ginger. I bathe Sari once ever week or two. I don't bathe the fish. Dogs need more baths. And socialization. And pooper-scoopers. ... And, as much as I'm WILD about the IDEA of loyalty and all ... I'm just not ready to do that. Maybe when the kids are leaving the house. Or when we have acreage ... or at least, a LARGER, FENCED-IN yard. Maybe then.
• I just wish that BabyGirl would turn and stay vertex. And that I don't make a mess when my water breaks. And that everything works out. I really don't want surgery. I can handle a few stitches. But I am not ready to sign up for major surgery right now.
• And, saying all that, one of my friends had an emergency C-section at about 30 weeks. She has HELLP. Her little boy (her second) is doing well. Not even three pounds yet ... but doing well. She's not feeling very good. So, yeah, that gives me perspective. And it makes me sad that crap things happen to MY people. If it were up to me, MY PEOPLE (friends and family) would always have nice things occur and make decisions that others look up to ... that sort of thing. There wouldn't be abuse or crap decisions or crap ANYTHING.
  But, well, they wouldn't have the learning opportunities that they DO have. So, that's probably why I am not the benevolent dictator of the world. ... As great of a benevolent dictator that I might be. :P
• As I look over at Miss Freyja, napping in the chair next to me, I kind of wish that I was a cat right now. Lots of naps, free massages, people coo at and play with you ... Sure, the food stinks (literally) ... but that might be a decent trade-off. But, then again, a lot of cats are lactose-intolerant ... so I don't think I'd be a very good cat. I'd be a smelly cat. And then people wouldn't like me as much. And that'd suck.
• But, hey, I touched bases with all my Visiting Teaching sisters this month. That's something good. 
• If only my house were clean and organized. I'm getting some SPURTS of motivation ... but not enough to actually get EVERYTHING done.
  As much as I want to pull an Allie Brosh and "CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!", well, it's NOT going to happen.
• I need a shower. So I'm going to finish this load of random crap brain-dumping.

Crazy Dream Chronicles ... Part "Waiting to Expel My Parasite"

Yesterday, as I took a nap, I dreamed.

I dreamt that I was sitting at my computer, in my underoos. Then I checked in my bottoms and there was my baby. She was bald and tiny and red ... Undeveloped enough not to really have eyeballs or whatever. But there were arms, legs, a body, and a head. All attached in the usual way. Connected to me via cord.
So I lifted her out of my underwears and nursed her. No biggie.
Obvs, surfing the web is the ultimate in painkillers/distraction.

(If only it COULD be that easy.)

In real life, yesterday BabyGirl's been doing her impression of a Dervish. She goes spinning around in my uterus. Mostly settling transverse ... right along the tightest seam of my most comfortable maternity pants. So, not the most comfortable ... but, well, tranverse MIGHT be better than breech. Less to turn, right?

The other dream that I remember having last night ... there were multiple parts.
My mom was up. My friend T had called her to chat. Mom had to run to some meeting. Michael had put tons of stuff in our yard (which, in my dream, was actually fenced in enough to use as storage ... Still uncovered. So I was ticked that MY bicycle's seat ended up in the back yard and NOT under the carport. ... He so wouldn't pull anything like that in real life.) -- Bicycles, frames for DIY race cars ... it was insane.

We also, for some reason, had this HUGE shelf of fish stuff. There were two tanks that were WAY TOO FULL. In one of them, the fish started going all "Wild Kingdom" and eating each other. Weird.
There were two SMALL open tanks. With TINY, TINY (about the size of one's hand) dolphins. The other tank, had a puffer fish in it. But it was too full for him to ever puff up.

And there was a kitten on one of my childhood blankets (I do still have this one -- The BLANKET, not the kitten. I'll have a human kitten soon enough). But she had fleas. And I couldn't get the fleas all dead. That was frustrating.

And the couch was all covered with folded laundry that I needed to put away ... And, yeah.
There was another part where I was surfing?/skateboarding? along the I-5 corridor just south of Roseburg (I'm SO familiar with that stretch, since it's between the BIG town [Roseburg] and my hometown ... so it is something that I know. Like the back of my hand. When I DON'T have an IV in there, that is).

In other news, I may have nested. After my nap, I cleaned up the bathtub. And most of our shower (forgot to scrub the mildew off the inside of the shower door. I would have started tackling the bathroom counters, except it was time to eat dinner.

I also cleaned a good portion of the kids' bathroom while Michael installed the dual-flush conversion kit.
Now that toilet WORKS like a REAL toilet. I always figured that the toilet in that bathroom was possessed, since you'd have to flush and HOLD the handle to get anything to fully go down the ... pipe?/drain?/whatever.
But it WORKS now. It was the flapper being the issue the WHOLE time these last few years.
That is not an issue anymore.
So I'm hoping that THAT bathroom is going to start smelling a WHOLE HECKUVA LOT better. STAT.
(And it helps that the sink and mirrors look a whole lot nicer. I still need to at least spray out the tub/shower in there. And sweeping and mopping would NOT go amiss. But ... I'll have to wait for the next bout of energy for that.)

I'm not going to church today. After this weekend, I'm pretty bushed. And, if anyone asks about BabyGirl, I don't want to take the chance that I'd burst into tears of frustration. I am NOT a pretty crier. It's all redness, blotches, and copious amounts of mucus. And I only have a couple pocket-packs of tissues in my bag.
That and ... well, what if my water breaks at church? Even if I'm wearing a pad, one of my nurses told me that, with the amount of fluid in there, I should POP ... and, well, I really don't want to make a mess. Since, well, everywhere that I'd be (besides the bathrooms, really. Since I don't have any reason to be in the serving area) is carpeted. And that'd be messy. And probably gross.
Especially since I'd be sitting on either a pew or a padded chair or a couch. And it's not like THOSE are easy to clean, either.

Also, my feet are so swollen. I only fit into a couple pairs of shoes. And, with a skirt ... it's not like I can hide my feet. Not even from myself. ... And I'm sick of looking at them. And I can FEEL the tops of my feet (where they're most swollen) JIGGLE as I walk. Ew.

So, BabyGirl, as of my waking up this morning (well ONE of the times I've woken up. I think it was around 4 AM ... didn't get up until 7), was vertical ... but I can't tell which end is head and which is her butt.
(Maybe since she's been such a little butthead this pregnancy. ... Unkind, I know. But it had to be said.)

I also noticed more discharge this morning ... but I don't know what color amniotic fluid is. Could just be that I'm dripping more than usual with this butt of a child pressing on my bladder. I have no idea.
Why can't they just send a sonogram machine home with me?
Or, there is a app (at least in development) that I read about for the iPhone that would allow doctors to use their phones to do ultrasounds ... but, including the transducer, it's only like ... well ... $8,000.
So, yeah, since I have a Droid and not an iPhone AND I don't have an extra $8,000 or so lying around ... it's not going to happen.

So ... yeah. I'm just going to take it easy, figure out if I'm going to make it through the church block (time frame) without going into labor. I have a contraction counter on my phone. Just in case. I think I'll nap. Or fold laundry. Or clean the bathroom counters. We'll see.

But, for the most part ... I feel ... quiet. Not nervous. Not frustrated. Just ... quiet.
That's not to say that I feel at all PATIENT.
This is ME we're talking about.
But ... I feel quiet.
Maybe it's the calm before the storm. Who knows. Maybe it's my body getting ready to psych me out again.

Oh dang. I feel tickles down in my pelvis. I think she's breech again.
Dammit.
Stupid punk butt child.
Obviously, I should go stand on my head or something. Maybe play Adele or something at my crotch.
Grab bags of frozen vegetables and pile them on the top of my swollen abdomen. Grrr. Oh well.

F is for ...

• Friday
• Fetus
• Flip
• Frustration
• Failure

Yeah, it's been an interesting week.

Got through Monday and Tuesday, even with Michael in class.
Pasta and chicken for dinner Monday. Tuna Melts/Grilled Cheese (for Bruise) on Valentine's Day.
(Because NOTHING says "love" like breath reminiscent of cat food, no?)

Michael brought me roses. We watched "The Business of Being Born" while I sat on my Yoga Ball, trying to turn this dang baby vertex. She moves ALL THE TIME.

Wendesday, Mom had a hair appointment at a local salon (Her hair is adorable. Brandi does good work), so I went to my appointment by myself. ... Where, even though I'm healthy and all ... we found out that Miss BabyGirl flipped to breech again.
Which explained the heartburn returning. Ugh.

So, Michael and I had a day to decide what to do about this.
Our options:

• Wait (for labor) and See (where the head is)
  - Vertex = have this baby
  - Breech = try an external version (HOPE IT WORKS) and have this baby -OR- (if it doesn't work) have a C-section.
• Come in for an induction
  - If she's vertex, go for it ... Before she moves again.
  - If she's not, do an external version ... then go for it.

So, after thinking and praying, I start calling the clinic at 8 AM, when it opens.
My doctor, I'm told, won't be in until 9 ... so I wait until then. And I leave a message. Almost every hour. Since, before I make a final decision, I REALLY have a couple questions.
I end up on hold, at one point, for ten minutes. Then I hang up, call back ... and am on hold again for ANOTHER TEN MINUTES.
So frustrated that I'm nearly sobbing and ready to throw the damn phone across the room.
So I call back, AGAIN, and get through the back office ... and that gets some results.
I'm told that I should get a call in a certain time frame (and I do). Which is a HUGE improvement.

My possible yeast infection (yes! Another one! Joy! /sarcasm) is not an issue.
The version then induction has a slightly higher percentage for success than just waiting and seeing ... So, since I'm really trying to avoid having to be sliced open (Seriously, I had to avert my eyes when seeing a c-section on film ... and I have children who don't always remember to be careful and not to HURTLE HEAD-FIRST into people's abdomens ... Yes, this is self-preservation happening here), we set up an appointment for inducing.

Michael and I would go to the hospital at 8:30 in the morning ... and, I should have a baby ... even if it took over 24 hours of labor (since you never know now long it'd take the Pitocin to kick in. ... I have a friend who had to be induced, what, THREE times for one of her kiddos. When I was having Bruise and Bucket, the Pitocin didn't take until the second try ... so I knew what I was getting in for) ... and, well, then I could stop worrying about which position this BabyGirl was in. I could get on with my life. I could know that I wouldn't be in the hospital after a certain date. I could make plans to ATTEND things (like one of my absolute bestie's baby shower) ... I could get rid of the swelling in my feet and ankles (that's moving up my calves. *sigh* ... At least my blood pressure's still doing well. So, no preeclampsia. Let's do dodge that bullet. PLEASE. I hate that MagSulfate drip. Ugh.)

SO, Friday morning, I'm getting out of the shower (Michael took the day off work. Mom was staying up. Michael let me shower first), aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand there's a phone call.
My appointment to come in is, effectively, cancelled. There aren't enough rooms. (Turns out there were two unplanned C-sections that occurred.)
I was SO UPSET.
So I cried. Good thing I hadn't put on make-up yet.

Got the kids off to school, Mom left for home, Michael paid off the van and did a few errands. Picked the kids up from school ... and got a phone call that, HEY, there SHOULD be room for you this late afternoon.
So, we finished errands and got ready for the hospital. And went.

We got there, got settled in, I got my IV prep and everything ... and then we checked where BabyGirl's head was.
Under my rib.
OF FREAKING COURSE.

So, we did a version.
Imagine me (not a small girl) on my back on a hospital bed. My doctor and a midwife ALSO on the bed, pushing and shoving at my uterus. My nurse is holding my hand. Another is observing. (Yup, add YET ANOTHER person to the list of "people who've seen my ladybits. ... I used to be modest. I used to have some modicum of pride. ... That's obviously all over.)
My doctor has to take breaks to grab the ultrasound transductor (or whatever the thing is) to see where this child's head is ... And FINALLY they get her moved to vertex.
And she has her HANDS in front of her head ... so we have to wait for her to move them before starting an induction ... since if the hands are in the way, that'd be an automatic C-section. Which we're trying to avoid.

By the by, as the version is happening, I'm doing some yoga-ish breaths. Every so often, they ask me how I'm doing. "Oh ... *breath* I'm not comfortable, per se ... but it's not as bad as a kidney stone. I know that much." "If it's available, I'll take some Fentanyl now." (They laughed at that one. I wasn't completely joking. Just for the record.)
But my nurse assured me, after it was over, that I was very brave and took it really well. Sometimes the medicine (didn't catch the name. Something that starts with a B) to relax the uterus can make patients REALLY anxious, since it can accelerate the heart rate. But, hey, I was doing my YOGA-BREATHS. Even though I wasn't WEARING them, I had my (proverbial) big girl panties.

And, WOW. I can tell you that an external version?
It's not comfortable.
I was told by a hospital worker that afterwards I shouldn't be sore.
THAT WAS A LIE. I am a little sore.
... Which should tell you EXACTLY how stubborn this freaking child is.
(She gets it naturally, though. Both Michael and I can be EXTREMELY stubborn. Good thing we agree on 98% of things. Or that'd be a BAD DAY).

So, we wait the two hours to see if BabyGirl will stay vertex and move her damn hands ... so that I can HAVE this baby and deal with real life as a previously-pregnant land whale.
I get to watch Jeopardy!, which is a plus.

And then, when my doctor came back ... BabyGirl was back to breech.
(Explaining the heartburn. AGAIN.)

SO. FRAKKING. FRUSTRATING.
So, they sent us home ... obviously, we're just doing the "wait and see" ... since we've tried all other options that aren't a C-section.

Another funny thing, though, as a distraction:
This was the first time I got to meet this midwife.
And after the version, as we chatted just a little, she asks me, "Do you have a sister? You look REALLY familiar."
"No. I'm an only child."
"Huh. How strange. Because you look really familiar."
"... Do you know [Bri]?"
"YES!! She's one of my patients! That's it! You two look SO SIMILAR! And you have a lot of the same expressions!"

Yup, there's a reason why Bri and I say that we're "sisters from another mister."
Regardless of our biological orgins, this is NOT the first time that people have asked us if we are sisters.
(In fact, when informed that we aren't, one man REFUSED to believe us. Rather funny.)

But, yeah ... so I cried. A lot.
We got Subway for dinner, since I hadn't eaten since around noon.
We went home and watched a movie.

What would YOU do if your kids were spending the night at Grandma's? And you and your husband have a little extra freedom?
No, we didn't do that.
Because I was mostly crying myself to sleep.
I still look kind of like hell from crying. Since I keep welling up and having to nab Kleenexes. Ugh.
And I woke up with a headache from crying. Stupid.

I hate not being in some control of my situations. We're supposed to be proactive, right?
But, with this? Short of cutting this child out of me, there's no real control that I have.
I don't know when I'm going into labor. I don't know if my water's going to break. Or where.
I don't even know, most of the time, where this fetus's head is.

And, hey, I'm ALMOST borderline for having TOO MUCH amniotic fluid in there. (The threshold for too much is 24 ... units ... I don't know what the units are. cc, maybe? I'm here at 23.7 ... Yup. Obviously, my uterus is all "Go big or ... well, no other option there. Ha!" ... Stupid uterus.)

But, yeah ... so it's time to go grocery shopping and pick up the kids ... and still waddle around with my gross, puffy feet. Grabbing for tissues, like someone who can't control her emotions at all.
Because I'm stupid with hormones and very, very disappointed.

It'd be SO much easier if we could just turn this stupid, crazy, stubborn child and then siphon off some amniotic fluid, so she CAN'T turn any more ... then get her OUT.
But ... they're not really able to do that. It sounds like a simple, almost an elegant, solution, though.
But, what do I know? I didn't go to med school. (And I wouldn't. Too long, too expensive, and I don't like the smell of cadavers. Ugh. ... So, yeah, I wouldn't make a good forensic scientist, either. Oh well.)

I don't know if I'm fit for public. ... Since it's a little tempting to just go lie in bed or sit in the shower and sob.

Ugh. And my uterus hurts. Especially when BabyGirl decides to try to push that STUPID CRANIUM of hers NOT where it should be.
It does NOT belong in my damn what-USED-to-be-my-belly-button-but-is-now-just-weird-looking. Or around one of my hip bones.
But get it DOWN into my pelvis.
And freaking KEEP IT THERE.

Or I WILL take one for the team and have major surgery.
(But only if I have to.)
Regardless, this girl is going to be COMPELTELY AWARE of how troublesome she was in-utero.
This had BETTER be her getting the rebellious stage out of the way.

And, dang it, for putting up with all this crap, she'd better be ADORABLE and have hair with a reddish tint to it.
OR ELSE.

(I don't know what "else" is right now ... but ... well, I'll figure out something. And it'll be ... something. Yeah.)

But, hey, as Michael's pointed out ... at this point, I've met a good majority of the nurses.
And, well, it IS flattering when nurses inform you that they hope that you come back and deliver when they're on shift. So ... even though it's kinda sucky, being in and out of the hospital, I must be doing something right.

(Besides, my momma didn't raise no dumb children. I KNOW that you are NICE to your nurses. They are the ones that bring you drugs. And I have a severe aversion to pain. I avoid it whenever I can.)

Well ...

Yesterday I started having contractions. So, I started thinking.
And, well, yesterday would have been maybe the most convenient day for BabyGirl to come ... MomC could have taken the kids and had them sleep over, since there's no school today ...

But, yeah, the contractions weren't long/often/regular enough to justify doing anything.
Not that they were what I'd classify as being "comfortable" by any means.
And my water didn't break ... so ... like I said, there's no reason to rush into the hospital.

Besides being a Nervous Nelly, that is.

So, I keep thinking of which days it'd be best to NOT have this girl:

• Valentine's Day - Because, if she's born on V-day, and Michael and I wanted to go out?
  Either we'd be deserting our little princess on her BIRTHDAY ... OR we'd not go out and I might resent that.
• Before noon on the 16th ... Michael needs to be able to pick up his paycheck.
  Also, this way, my cool diaper bag should have arrived. And it'd be a perk to BE HERE to get it from the delivery person. Let along just KNOWING that I'd have it.
  (No, his company hasn't gotten direct deposit set up. It'd be nice. Someday. Someday.)
• The 22nd ... The kids have a dental appointment. It's just easier if I can go with them to it.
• The 24th/25th ... since I don't want to miss my Bri's baby shower ... and it's that second day. And, well, I have no idea how soon I'd be able to leave the hospital. (Last time, I was on a MagSulfate drip for 24 hours. UGH. And Bruise had jaundice and was under observation ... so we were there for four days after the kids were born. I don't think we'd be there THAT long this time ... But, yeah, I have no idea.)

But, yeah ... it's not like my body's really going to listen to me or anything.

Especially since I'm so dumb when it comes to pain.
When something REALLY HURTS, my FIRST THOUGHT is to have Michael or someone feel my forehead and tell me if this is bad pain or not.

It's like I don't KNOW that PAIN ISN'T A FEVER.
Pain is subjective ... other people can't really observe it.
I theoretically KNOW this ... but, gosh, it's like I FORGET it when I'm IN PAIN.

And THEN, oh my goodness ... I'm not really good at saying where on the pain scale I am.
(Link goes to a Hyperbole And a Half comic. There are swear words. However, whenever I think of pain scales, THAT STRIP is what comes to mind.)

I mean, after the kidney stone fiasco, I have come to realize that maybe I try to downplay my pain.
The nurses would ask, "About where, on a scale of one to ten, is your pain?"
And I'm be all, "Um? A seven? Maybe an EIGHT?"
And Michael was all, "NINE. IT'S A NINE."

At one point, Susan (one of my nurses. She was there when I was in the hospital with preeclampsia, too), had to tell me to call her (I hate being ... NEEDY or inconvenient. Maybe it's an only child-type thing) when the pain got to a certain point. And she and I agreed that I'd get her if it got to a five.
Since my room was RIGHT BY the nurses' desk, at one point, I dragged myself out of the bed with my IV, and stood in the doorway and was all, "Susan? ... I think it's at a 4.6 now."
Because ... pulling on the cord seemed a LITTLE extreme.
(That bed's "call nurse" button didn't work. I got a little better about using that by the SECOND TIME I was in the hospital for my pansy of a kidney. ... And I was in a different room with a button that worked. ... Not that, in the first room, I could even REACH the cord from the bed. Not without some serious contortions ... which wouldn't have been very doable unless I WANTED to take a chance of ripping out my IV. Just sayin'.)

But, yeah ... I have learned this year that once my pain gets past a 7.75?
I vomit.

After it gets past an 8? I can't cry with tears ... or, maybe it's just with that stupid kidney, where I was pretty dehydrated (from throwing up due to the pain), that I just didn't have any water left to make tears.

But those are MY numbers ... so maybe it's more like, respectively, an 8.75 and a 9?

But I'd figure that on the nurses' scale, a 10 would be pain that would kill you.
With the amount of pain I was in, I wasn't DYING ... I just wanted to crawl into a cool cave and lie there until the pain went AWAY ... so I wouldn't BOTHER anyone by being a wimp.

I HAVE ISSUES.

IT'S TRUE.

But, yeah ... Isn't that why y'all come and read this? So that you can KNOW FOR A FACT that you're not nearly as insane as I am? (Or, if you ARE, that you're not alone in this level of insanity? ... That, in fact, since there's someone else as crazy-head out there, we just MIGHT be normal?? ... Which, you know, is a bit of a disturbing thought. Just sayin'. :P You know I love you.)

But, yeah ... No contractions, really, this morning. And I've been awake for over an hour.
I was able to sleep through the night ... so they did taper off at some point.
And, YES, I was drinking LOTS of water and resting. I also made sure to go to the piddly-diddly department, so that there wouldn't be THAT pressure on my uterus. I've read the books, checked the websites.

So it's just a big game of "Wait and See."
And, to quote Inigo, "I hate waiting."

(Seriously, as much I love this little parasite? It'd be nice to KNOW when she's going to come. This way I can make sure that I have childcare set up in advance, I'd know if I'll get my diaper bag and bengkung in time ... I'd even have an idea of HOW MUCH HOUSEWORK I'd manage to get done in advance.
But ... well, she's not sending any engraved announcement cards. So ... I'll just live these last few hours/days/weeks on the edge of my seat. ... I suppose this means that I should stop procrastinating, doesn't it?)

Prayer for the win!

So, as Michael was going to make a run to the store (we're THISCLOSE to being out of milk. And we can't go shopping on the SABBATH!! ... You might. We try not to. It's all cool.), the van didn't start.

So, I saw him still out there, with the other outside light on ... I asked what was going on.
And, well, the van needed a jump and he needed my keys.

No big.
So I get them.

And I hop in the van ... and, even hooked up to the truck ... even REVVING the truck, it was NOT STARTING AT ALL.

It was dead.

Deaddy-dead-dead.

So, Michael runs into the house to see if he can get his volt meter (He didn't find it. It's probably in the shop.) ... and I take the opportunity to say a quick prayer.
(Why not? I mean these last couple weeks, prayer's been a BIG THING. The boy in our ward who was in the Willamette for an hour? He's back home. He's not TOTALLY, COMPLETELY back to normal ... but that's a darn sight better than having no heartbeat and being in the ICU. Also, BabyGirl flipped when I needed her to. That was a NICE thing. Saved me some pain. And some time, too. And a whole lot of worrying was averted. ... So, might as well go with what's been working, right??)

So, Michael revs the truck, I turn the key .... IGNITION!!

Yeah. It's REALLY, TOTALLY, AWESOMELY GREAT when prayer is answered.
And it was just bonus that it was answered IMMEDIATELY in this case.

But, yeah. I like prayer. It makes me happy.
Thought I'd share that.

Turn, turn, turn ...

So, at my OB appointment on Wednesday, we found that BabyGirl was breech.

Her head was wedged under my left rib ... which does explain how awful my heartburn has been.
And we scheduled an external version for the next morning ... so I can (hopefully) continue my streak of births without surgical assistance.

(Also, I had about the worst night. Let's just say that, around midnight, my body decided that EVERYTHING IN MY SYSTEM NEEDED OUT. STAT!!! ... It was ... HORRIFIC.)

So, I had a priesthood blessing and I let my friends know via Facebook that I'd appreciate prayers/good thoughts for Miss Girl to turn AND STAY TURNED.
I also spent about an hour on a Yoga/Birthing Ball while Michael and I watched Contagion.

I drove myself to the hospital the next morning (Mom was getting the kids onto the bus), got admitted, got in my room, gowned up (starkers underneath ... nope, I don't think I have any pride left at this point), and got my IV in.
My OB and another from their practice (I like them both) got there, got out the ultrasound machine to see where they'd need to turn this fetus, ... and found that SHE WAS HEAD DOWN.

So, they took out the IV, I got dressed again, and went home.
Seriously, I was out of there within about an hour of check in. It was kind of hilarious.

And I think that BabyGirl has dropped since she turned. Which, well, should help her STAY head-down.

And I haven't gone into labor ... so I was able to make it to the kids' school's Science Night last night.
AND I made it to Bruise's assembly (he was one of the students of the month at school).
I was going to be MAJORLY PISSED if I missed EITHER of those.

Oh, also? According to the ultrasound on Wednesday, BabyGirl is estimated to be ALMOST eight pounds (a couple ounces shy). Since Bruise was JUST over six pounds and Bucket was five pounds, three ounces ... well, this is going to be very different.

And I've been warned that, JUST IN CASE, if my water breaks, HIE ME to the hospital. This way if BabyGirl ISN'T still head-down, they have one last chance to turn her.
My doctor warned me, "Don't stay and labor at home."
Me: Why would I do THAT? If I come to the hospital, you'll give me DRUGS. I won't get drugs at home. It's not like I'm going to get a medal or anything. I'll come to the hospital. BRING ON THE FENTANYL!

Yeah, I don't think she has to worry about me staying at home to labor. At least not until I KNOW I'm in labor. And especially not if my water breaks.

Oh, I also got a gorgeous color picture from my OB's office ... of my kidney stone. It was completely Calcium Phosphate. 12 mg. 2x3x2mm
Yeah, I never actually saw it in person, myself. I could hear it clinking in the little jar when my nurse shook the jar, though. But, hey ... Facebook fodder at its finest, right? :P

Also, at Science Night (sorry for jumping around so much), Bruise and Michael got to ride on a Segway. Bruise almost crashed into the walls a couple times (he's so light that it's hard to control the Segway). Michael, though, made it look pretty effortless.

I got to chat with the principal, which was nice. I like her. I like the kids' school a lot.
(THERE WAS A SCIENCE EXHIBIT WITH LIQUID NITROGEN!!!!! ... Yes, I did geek out a little. I'm sorry, but earlier yesterday I watched a video of a NEW fondue thing -- you take fresh berries and cream and dip them into liquid nitrogen. DO WANT. SO MUCH.)

I also got to chat with the mom of one of the kids' friends. We adore their family. We met at their son's birthday party. They're really, really awesome. And, it so happens, that she and I blogstalk each other (since we're friends on Facebook ... and have both listed our blogs in our info ... heh. So, yeah, it's fun.)

I got to BRIEFLY exchange pleasantries with the kids' teacher today at the assembly. We had seen each other at Science Night ... but only at a distance. Which was a little sad. Since I like their teacher a lot, too.

Today, while Michael (who COULDN'T make it to the assembly ... too much work that NEEDED to get done. But it was okay. Mom, Julie, Mom C, Grandma C, and I were all there) took Bruise out to celebrate his getting Student of the Month, Bucket and I stayed at the house and I painted her toes and we started watching The Sound of Music.  Good times.

Well, I am READY for a nap. So I'm going to close up.

And, in other news, my cousin saw on Facebook that I had gone to the hospital. But she obviously hadn't checked out the rest of the comments (since I was OUT of the hospital so quickly) ... and she told Nana that I was in the hospital. So Nana called my Dad and Dad called me.
I told Dad to have Nana call my OTHER cousin (my first-cousin once-removed who's on Facebook a LOT more often) for the most up-to-date news.  ... So, yeah, that was interesting.

HA!
Bruise and Bucket were playing Legos. Bucket got (Bruise picked it out) a set of the new girl Legos (the one with the little robot. Since the girl's hair is the most like hers). She loves it.

Bucket declared that Olivia (Lego Girl) and Boba Fett were going out to eat a ham and cheese sandwich for dinner.

Bruise: No. She can't go out with him. He's bad. He's always been bad.
Bucket: He's NICE now!!!!!!!

Then she stormed off to her room.

Oh my ... As Michael pointed out, this is the conversation that will happen AGAIN in about a decade.
Oh my.

Lazy-ish

I haven't loaded the dishwasher.
I haven't moved more than one load of laundry.
I didn't vacuum.

But I did get meals finalized for a couple in the ward who just had a baby.
A LOT of emails (mostly yesterday) were involved. But, hey, food! Food is good!

I've had heartburn for most of today. Fake Zantac isn't working as well as it used to.
I think I'm going to pick up some fake Prilosec tomorrow ... which I WAS going to do today ...
But, well, I didn't get showered or dressed until rather late. And the kids didn't want to go to the store.
So we didn't.

But they did half the week's homework. And watched shows and played on the Wii.
I took a bath (It's where I find myself most comfortable, for the most part) and laid down and read "The Fault in Our Stars." I cried a little. It was good.

I got to help a friend by printing a picture for her. It's nice to be useful.

I'm just so tired.

I suppose it has something to do with being nearly 38 weeks pregnant. And having children who have taken to waking up before 6:30 and wanting to come snuggle with me. Or having to wake up around 5 to pee. Or having strange dreams that make me stay awake for a bit in the middle of the night as I try to mull them over enough to quiet my brain.

Aaaaaaaaand I yelled at my son about how if HE wants to COMPLAIN about dinner (grilled cheese, per Bucket's request), he can start MAKING DINNER HIMSELF.
Yeah, my Native American name will be "Battles with Six-Year-Old." Or "Nags Incessantly."
Way to be the best and most loving mother. /sarcasm

But they're now happily eating their sandwiches and drinking milk. Then it'll be pajama time and brushing teeth time and scripture story time and prayer and story-story time ... and then I won't yell anymore. Since there won't be anyone to yell at. The fish don't misbehave. Freyja-cat is pretty well behaved. I just have to use THE TONE with her and she corrects her behavior posthaste.

I think that I'm going to lay down again once the kids are in bed. I'm just tired.
But, hey, at least I know what to do about the kids' Valentines ... like how many they'll need and all. So that's nice.

Okay ... I'm closing up. I don't have anything really exciting or witty to say. Sorry.

Just some whining ...

So, I have clothes to fold ... and baby clothes in the washer and dryer to fold and put away.

I still have heartburn. I think that my body's adapted to fake Zantac. Might be time to buy some fake Prilosec.

But, hey, at least that pesky yeast infection is GONE, GONE, GONE.

I'm farther along than I've ever been. People at church remark on how large my stomach is ... which is true.
(I don't think ANY of them ever saw me pregnant with twins ... so, though I FEEL huge, I'm actually a lot smaller than I was last time.)

Still can't find my nursing tops ... And I am not really seeing any cute/practical ones that I'm willing to drop any money on. Oh well. No huge deal. I'll get over it.

I finished another book ... That's good.
I'm tired.
And the house doesn't feel so home-y without Michael here.
Just, what, four more hours to get through. I can do it.
I should put clothes away and fold other clothes and get BabyGirl's clothes all settled.
This way I'll have one less thing to do. And I need to do dishes and clean the kitchen.
And my desk.
And mail off a couple of snail-mail letters.

Mostly, though, I just want to hibernate. Not like that's an option. At all.

Oh well ... the kids'll have homework tomorrow. And I'll get the house cleaner. And buy a birthday prezzie for my aunt. And maybe run downtown and look at a resale store or two ... just to see if there's anything I CAN'T live without. (I bought a little purple dress for this girl. Not that she really NEEDS anymore clothes. ... Well, maybe tights. Maybe.)
And I'll set up appointments for waxing and a pedicure. Maybe for the 17th. We'll see.

But, yeah ... If I weren't responsible for taking care of the house right now, I'd just go take a bath and go to bed and hope that this stupid heartburn would just GO. THE. FLIP. AWAY.
FOREVER.

Oh well. I'll live. And I just have to get through one more lonely day. Then we get a little busy -- Mom'll be up. I have an OB appointment. Then a school activity. Then an assembly and my aunt's birthday. ... Michael'll have a LONG morning meeting on Saturday ... but he'll be home for most of the day. So that'll be good.

Oh, hell. I just realized that (1) I'm not at all prepared for Valentine's Day (i.e., we need to buy Valentines for the kids to pass out to their classmates) and (2) Michael has class that night. So, I'll see him about the time that I'm curled up and tired. Ugh. ... Then Mom'll be up the next day and I have another OB appointment ... and most of the rest of the week is free. There's some Performing Arts thing for the kids on Saturday. Maybe we'll run into the next town and see if there's a diaper bag that I NEED (I hope so!).

Oh well ... time to make dinner, load the dishwasher, unload the dryer, put away bunches of clothes and wash clothes for those of us NOT in utero. *sigh*

Two hours until the kids are in bed. I can do this. I can.

Random bunch of brain dumpage

First things first, it's really awesome that the boy that we've been praying for and worrying about (in my case) is doing remarkably well. (When his doctors and nurses say something is miraculous, you know they're impressed.)
His lungs are still a little weak, but he's doing so much better. Which is QUITE a relief.

Michael and I went through the shop and brought in some boxes of baby clothes ... which I need to go through and organize. But BabyGirl will have clothes.
Still can't find ANY of my nursing things (garment tops and a few shirts. Oops ... I really have no idea where they could be. I sure hope I didn't somehow donate them). But, even if that's the case, I have some bras that are usable for nursing bras (until I order some CUTE ones, once I know how my ribcage and bewbs are going to even out ... since I plan on using a bengkung to try and regain my pre-preg body a little sooner, there's a chance that I might have some changes in band and cup size. It'd suck to order cute bras and then have them NOT fit. Just sayin' ... Especially since I plan on nursing for around two years) ... and I have a back-up plan for nursing tops (get some close-fitting undershirts. Cut slits in the sides. Wear them under regular shirts. VOILA! Instant nursing top!).

We got the kiddos' "Mitten Adventure" done up ... photos and a story. Their (paper) mittens went to work and a park with Michael. Then grocery shopping with us. Then to a children's museum.

Got thank-you notes written to most family. Phew! Now to have the kids sign two of them and snail-mail those.

Decided to get a Shellac pedicure sometime in the next couple of weeks.
I should also set up a last pregnant waxing.
Which will be nicer since I no longer am irritated-as-flip in my undercarriage. (Yay for modern pharmaceutics!)

I'm having lots of Braxton-Hicks ... which can be ... interesting. As we were walking around the children's museum yesterday, I had to stop. OFTEN. And sit down.
It didn't help that I should have brought a water bottle. Or ten.

I have BabyGirl's sleep-area pretty much set up. She will need more storage for clothes at some point ... but I did buy ONE little plastic three-drawer dresser-thing. Which, when she gets a REAL ROOM with space for a REAL DRESSER, we can use it for toys or storage or whatever.
And I bought more baby-sized hangers. And my bag for the hospital (or overnight trips).

I still haven't bought a diaper bag. But I found the one that I want. If it's not at a local shop, I can get it from Amazon.com ... for now. But I don't know that it'll arrive before BabyGirl does. :S

I've been reading a lot. Getting through books while I still have the chance. It's been a little since I've been reading this much this fast ... Just a couple more new books that I NEED to read ... (especially since I've been asked to lend one out ... and I haven't started that one. Since I'm saving it a little. Oops.)

I know that more stuff than that has happened ... but I'm tired and I have less than 50 pages to finish Joshilyn Jackson's latest book. And I WANT to finish it. Then I'll read John Green's latest. ... When I'm not setting up appointments, Visiting Teaching, browsing at resale stores, going to OB appointments, buying a present for my aunt's birthday, or attending an assembly or Family Science night ... those are ALL things that will be happening this week.

I'm starting to get uncomfortable (starting? Ha ... I AM rather uncomfortable) ... but I don't know if I'm really ready for BabyGirl to get here. There's still things I need to do ... Ugh. I never feel ready.
And, I know it's dumb ... but it shows what a control freak I can be ... but I really wish that I knew in advance at least WHICH DAY to expect her arrival. So I could be sure to plan accordingly.
I don't want to schedule a pedicure for a time that I can't make it ... and I want my toes to be pretty WHILE I'm at the hospital. ... I kinda want to get a haircut, too ... but I don't know what style. And my hairdressing-maven Bri is crazy-busy with her own pregnancy, college schedule, and social life. So ... it's just something that's on the back burner for now. ... And has been since mid-December. Oh well.

In other news, my husband made churros tonight.
There's yet another reason to keep him around forever. Never underestimate the importance of a good pastry.

Progress ...

The boy we've been praying for has regained consciousness. That's a good thing.

I had a good time with my mom up here. Also a good thing.

I think I found the diaper bag that I want. I just have to be able to wait until the NEXT paycheck to buy it.

I cleaned out BabyGirl's bassinette, so that I won't have to do that later.

Found my (manual) breast pumps. They were on top of a cupboard in the kitchen the whole time!

Now to attempt to find my nursing clothes.
And to DEFINITELY get the boxes of infant clothes out of the shop and organized and put away.

I also need to clean off my desk. And take pictures for a project for the kids' class. I'll get it done.
This weekend, our oldest niece is being baptized.
That'll be nice.

I only gained about 3.5 lbs this last week. Not too shabby. Especially since my feet and calves are getting swollen again. I should drink more water.
I'm feeling a LOT better, undercarriage-wise (When I was in the hospital with my kidney stone? The nurses thought it was funny when I'd refer to my girly-bits as "my undercarriage." "It sounds like you're talking about a car!" Well, yes. But it's a little more entertaining than using the scientific terms a BAZILLION times. Just sayin'.) ... So, it's good to know that we've solved THAT problem. Stupid thrush.
My blood pressure is BEAUTIFUL (That's a direct quote, by the by), so that's a good thing.
I REALLY don't want to have preeclampsia AGAIN.

The OB (not my usual one, but another in the practice) did say that I could go into labor whenever and it'd be fine. Things are looking good.
She also noticed one of the marks on my garment ("Is this a fake belly button?" ... With a question like that, it's so darling! I had to let her know that, no, it's not. There's a reason for it.) and we talked about the significance of the LDS garments. It was nice ... it also let me know that, goodness, it's been too long since I've gone to the temple. (The last couple times I went were for sealings ... so it's been a while since I did an endowment session. I'm getting rusty in my knowledge.)
Yes, I did talk about garments. Because they're sacred, not secret. And I think that if people have questions, it's good to give them information. ... Just like when my kids ask about their bodies. My daughter is aware that someday she's going to have breasts and a menstrual cycle. My son's aware that ladies bleed once a month. And that he'll be a daddy at some point. They both know that (most) women can feed their babies using breasts ... just like the rest of the mammalian order (It is order, right? I mean, the KINGDOM would be Animalia ... then it'd be mammals, right? Correct me if my preggo-brain is getting all mixed up, please.)

At this point ... I'm just really tired.
And hoping that BabyGirl is head-down there in my uterus. If not, I'm going to be doing some yoga and such in a last-ditch effort to get her to be head-down. I can handle that.

I also need to get my bag packed for the hospital. JUST. IN. CASE. ... I'd like to actually be prepared this time. It's a nice thing.
So, I should also schedule a last waxing. And a gel pedicure. So my toesies are PRETTY.
For some reason that feels INCREDIBLY VITAL to me at this point.
I don't know why. But it does.

I still can't believe that my due date is getting closer all the time.
I mean, really. It's 22 days until BabyGirl is "supposed" to arrive. That means that it's 27 days until the day that I hope she comes (which happens to be my last OB appointment scheduled).
It's so strange. This is the longest I've ever been pregnant. Tomorrow it'll be 37 weeks. That's crazy!
Good crazy ... but crazy.