Giddy Up
A couple weeks ago, Mr. BBM had a dream that I had the baby. In his dream, the baby was 23.5 inches long at birth. We both laughed; ha, ha, that’s funny but entirely not possible.
Last night, I had a woman tell me that she gave birth to her son nine days past her due date and that he was over 10 lbs and 23 inches long. Then she went on to tell me how she used to get pummeled in the ribs and hip bones at the same times.
Check. I’m basically getting kicked in the throat with a headbutt to the cervix on a daily basis. It’s all kinds of fun.
And there are new symptoms that labor is just around the corner (or not). Lately, I’m worried people are going to address me “Howdy Cowgirl.” I am totally walking like I’ve been riding a horse and that is exactly how I feel. I don’t remember EVER feeling this way with either of the girls.
On Thursday, I will be 39 weeks. I have reached the single digits, only nine days to go. Yet right now, those nine days, seem like an eternity. I am fully expecting to be able to attend Big I’s first swim meets which will happen on the 8th-9th of October. Clearly, the eviction notice was ignored.
Eviction Notice
It is hereby stated, on the 20th day of September, that the lease is officially up despite the fact that the original lease agreement expires on 10/6. This is a formal eviction notice for the occupant of my stretched out, sad and tired uterus. This eviction notice is being issued due to the following reasons:
- Occupant is causing daily lower back pain equivalent to an elephant tap-dancing on my spine.
- Occupant has moved into the basement regions of the “apartment” and is therefore causing frequent trips to the bathroom at ungodly hours, as well as whole body jolts from head butts to certain nether-regions.
- Occupant is dead-set on kicking down the “walls” and doing damage to the exterior structures of the rented space (i.e. Quit kicking my ribs already and if you could stop making me feel like I have to barf every time I eat, that would be fab. Also, the constant burping you’re causing is just wrong. I was not born to be a truck driver.)
- Occupant is encroaching on other residents of the “building,” including the bladder and stomach; both never did anything to you, so what’s your problem anyway???
I went from being told to “keep my legs crossed for two more weeks” to “I have two weeks left until this baby is officially due and I am just plain miserable.” For the past few nights, I’ve had contractions and low back pain for hours at a time.
Then they just stop, only to start up again the next day. This little man is already a player. He is totally messing with me.
I started taking evening primrose oil. I’m drinking red leaf raspberry tea. I ate a basil leaf the size of my head today for lunch. I drowned my mahi-mahi in a sriracha sauce the other night. I’m being active and am not just hanging out on the couch waiting for things to get rolling. Every linen closet in my house has been organized. The baby’s room is ready for a new little occupant and my bathroom has been cleaned top to bottom.
The other day, I watched a video on acupressure points on the back of the heel and on the inside of the shin. I even watched a video of some very pregnant girl dancing to “Ice, ice baby.” Apparently her moves sent her into labor about 8 hours later. If I could find my old “Vanilla Ice” CD, I would so be doing that right now.
I know I should be patient, and that I won’t be getting any more sleep after this little guy has made his entrance; but I guess I’m just nervous that I won’t go on my own. I’ve had to be induced the past two times (although once was on my due date so Sassy never really even had a chance to come out on her own). The midwives will let me go up to two weeks post-date which would put me at 10/20. That seems SO much further away than 10/6. I am praying that the dream I had in the summer that said 9/17 was the day, wasn’t really 10/17, because ohmygodicannotmakeituntiltheniwilldiegetthisbabyoutnowplease. I’ve been told by my one midwife that third babies do not need to be induced. I’m praying she’s right. I almost feel like mentally, I’m holding myself up. All the signs are there, but perhaps I don’t believe I can go into labor on my own.
So, if you should happen to see me in person, please avoid saying things to me like “You’re still pregnant!?!” and “You’re not in labor yet!?!” I kind of hate the whole overtly obvious statements thing. Plus, I haven’t kicked anything or anyone in a long time, and I just might choose to kick you.
Yeah, I’m that miserable.
9/11: Then and Now
Ten years ago this morning, we were visiting my in-laws and I was sitting in my mother-in-law’s living room watching “Regis and Kelly” when the first bits of horrible news interrupted the program. My mother-in-law lived in a house where her business was on the floor below. Mr. BBM and she went downstairs to tell people what was going on. I stayed upstairs with my 5 month old baby. When the second plane hit, I just remember the absolutely bone-chilling terror that swept through me. I grabbed my baby and ran downstairs to tell them what had happened. It wasn’t long before the Pentagon was hit too and we were all glued to the TV, wondering when, if, it would end.
As the morning wore on, the news of the plane crash in Shanksville arrived on the TV. Mr. BBM’s dad was out making sales calls that day in that area. We tried to get him on his phone but couldn’t. Later, when we were finally able to get in touch with him, we were all so relieved. I remember thinking about all the families that day who would not be getting that relief.
We went to bed that night with CNN on the TV. I was almost too terrified to sleep. I was afraid something else would happen. I didn’t sleep well that night at all. The constant lingering thought in my head was, “What kind of world did I bring my daughter into?” We wondered how we would get back home, if we could get home. The country had been shut down.
A few days later, we made our way back on the PA turnpike. It was deserted except for a few lone cars. I remember being afraid a lot of the time after 9/11. I was worried someone would attack the mall. I didn’t want to go to big sporting events or concerts. I wanted to be less of a target. Within a few months, Mr. BBM had a job where he was traveling all the time. It was a huge stress on me every time he got on another airplane. The cross-country flights scared me the most. Eventually, I learned to relax a bit, but never entirely.
Ten years later, I am 24 days away from my due date with our third baby. We live in a society where we’ve been told to have an emergency family plan. We live in a country where we have a terror alert system and sit on constant “high alert.” I’ve had relatives and friends stationed overseas in the fight against terrorism. Every year, I watch the list of names being read. I watch the “looking back” specials. This year, we watched them with Big I who is now 10 years old. Although we will never forget, we move on each year with hope; hope that our daughters and our soon-to-arrive son will never, in their lifetimes, experience another tragedy like we experienced on that day.
May God bless all of the families who lost a loved one that day; and may we never forget.
He Won’t Fall Out Right?
On Wednesday, at 34 weeks and 6 days pregnant, my midwife told me to keep my “legs crossed for two more weeks.” Directed at someone who has had to be induced twice, this seemed like an odd request, unless you consider the circumstances under which she told me this bit of advice.
Every pregnant lady knows that part of your pre-natal visits include your healthcare professional measuring your belly while you hang out on your back. The number of centimeters measured is supposed to be equal to the number of weeks pregnant you happen to be. For the last month, I’ve been measuring a half week to a week ahead of schedule. The last time I was there, two weeks ago, I measured at 33.5. Yesterday I measured 31. Babies tend not to shrink during this stage, so immediately I questioned that number.
“How is that possible when I’ll be 35 weeks tomorrow?” I asked her. She asked me to bend my knees and placed her hands on my abdomen, below the bump. “Oh my God” she said. (Totally not what you want to hear when a midwife has her hands on you.) A couple weeks ago, the same midwife told me that the baby’s head was down. Yesterday, she told me that the baby’s head is basically locked and loaded.
When she was measuring me from the bottom of my baby bump to the top, she was only really measuring the little guy from the base of his neck down to his butt. She rearranged the tape measure and I measured almost right on. I don’t mean to get too personal and all, but let’s just suffice it to say that there is a reason I’m getting up to pee three times a night now. There is a reason I feel like I’m getting head-butted in the cervix on a near constant basis. It’s because I am; he is waaaaaay down there.
As a comparison, Big I “floated” until I was pretty much ready to push her out (after over 14 hours of labor). Sassy did almost the same thing. She wasn’t “engaged” at all until I was in the throes of 15 hours of labor.
Today I am 35 weeks and 1 day and this baby has assumed the position. I’ve been praying all along that I don’t have to be induced this time; now my prayers have switched to “Please just let me make it to 36 weeks and 6 days” (the earliest the midwives will deliver me at the birth center).
It has gotten to the point where if I just push on the little guy’s butt (which is hanging out close to my ribs and all up in my lungs’ business), I actually feel like I’m going to push him out. Fun stuff.
So I guess if there was ever a time to start taking bets on when he’ll actually arrive and how big and long he’ll be, the time is now. Place your guesses below and the winner will get the best prize of all. . . . bragging rights. If you’d like to take a guess on his name, you can do that too. Knock yourselves out.
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