the obvious

five kids is a lot of kids.
not as many as say, 9 or 12 or 20.

but still a good amount.

yes, man in the store, i am a busy mother.
thank you for reminding me.

also,
there are only 24 hours in a day.

it is not enough.

and while we're at it...

well, numerous people who feel the need to ask: i suppose if having five children was the only requirement, then yes, i would probably make a good catholic.
but i'm fairly certain that's not the only requirement.
and no, i'm not catholic. (you would not believe how often we get that one.)

yes, i realize none of my children have my red hair.

you can ask how old my baby is, you can tell me she's cute, you can even ask if they're all mine...but please, don't just stare at me and smile. because after a few minutes it's really just creepy.

yup, i do look young to have 5 kids. but i'm not going to defend my life choices or justify my age or marital status because you hint around and stare at me quizzically.

even if you're my doctor. (seriously dude. my chart's right there.)

bathing beauty

she is one month old already.

she smiles.

she wore her bathing suit for the first time.

 

(this picture cracks me up—because when she “found” her arm there she seriously stared at it for a good 2 or 3 minutes)

mommy is off bed rest. all systems go. free as a bird.

i was “released” on thursday…we were at the mall on friday. ;o)

life is good.

bet you didn’t read this in a book

i feel i’ve been failing you.

yes, you—all of you. my readers. you come here—not to hear me whine. not to hear about my latest health issues or how long i’ve been laying in my bed. you don’t really want the gory details of my uterus and my boobies and my bleeding and all that (or do you? you don’t, right? cause if you do…well, that’s just a little weird). and i know i tend to over share and i know that pregnancy and childbirth is really all-consuming for a woman and when you put those together you have a blogger who over shares about her pregnancy and childbirth to the exclusion of just about everything else.

and, well…i have to say it’s got to get old after a bit.

so in reparation i have gathered together a post of tips for you--still baby related, yes. but not directly pertaining to my specific health/pregnancy/baby issues. for that, you’re welcome.

these are tips that you most likely will never find in any pregnancy/baby book. but tips that are vitally important nonetheless.

let’s get started, shall we?

if you are going to have a baby at any time in the near future, do yourself a favor and get a bed like this:

 

because when s/he is awake, your baby will spend a lot of time staring at it like this:

 

the lines…the curves…it’s simply mesmerizing to a newborn.

if you can’t or won’t get a bed like this, at the bare minimum you need a pillow like this:

which also provokes this reaction:

 

or this one…

we call this her “smart look.”

tip #2
this one is super important—even a breastfed baby can sometimes get a little stopped up. despite what most people say. so your doctor will tell you that you can use half of a glycerin suppository to help your baby’s…uhh…evacuation.

now, on the bottle it says: “generally produces bowel movement in 1/4 to 1 hour”.
BUT, what that really means is: “generally produces bowel movement in 1/4 to 1 second.”

have supplies ready. that’s all i’m sayin’.

next up…
before you have a baby one of the best things you can do is either have, borrow, or even steal a responsible, friendly, intelligent 11 year old girl. this child will be invaluable to you in your quest for an extra 15 minutes of sleep, bringing you coffee in the morning, or even allowing you some potty time in peace. they will happily fold baby’s laundry, dress baby and even change baby’s diapers because they’re “just soooo ca-uuuutteee!!! squeeee!!!”

although, in a pinch, even a 2 year old can work.

 
she looks thrilled, doesn’t she?

my final 2 tips for you are, without a doubt, the most important two:

firstly, “they” will say babies don’t really smile until 5 or 6 weeks. smiles prior to that are merely “gas”.

RUBBISH. any and all smiles baby makes from birth on up are because they LOVE you, they APPRECIATE you wiping their dirty bottoms and cuddling them and singing them lullabies at 2:45 am and feeding them. because they recognize you as mommy and are trying to let you know in their limited way that they know you and LOVE YOU.

clearly she’s thinking “i love you mommy”…even if she’s looking at the pillow.

besides, who do you know—aside from 9 year old boys—who smiles when they have gas? amiright?

and that brings us to this--my final tip for you: you can never have too many photos of a sleeping baby.

p.s.—sorry for all the dark/blurry/overall lousy pics in this post…my bedroom doesn’t always have the best “photo” light…and well, i’m stuck there.

p.p.s—shoot! now i ruined it. forget i mentioned that i’m stuck in bed. i wasn’t supposed to mention that in this post!

the nitty gritty

this is basically the email i sent to a dear friend who, like me, just loves all things birth related—including all the gory details. i’m posting it here for myself—this blog is also a diary of sorts—and for any of you who may also enjoy this sort of thing (i’m lookin’ at you dmcL hehehe)

it’s not necessarily gory—but let’s face it—birth ain’t pretty. i mean, it’s glorious and magical in the whole “bringing a new life into the world” sort of way…but it’s also a very…what’s the word i’m looking for? animalistic process.

at least for me it is. i’m definitely not one of those calm and collected women who does her makeup, drips a single bead of sweat and makes a polite lady-like grunt as the head emerges.

i hate those women.

so i can guarantee you that if you read the following story you will hear about the following things: my cervix, pee, poop, the toilet, and stitches. and you will see some extremely unflattering photos of me. i’m not always the curled and pressed vixen you see there on my sidebar. (but nothing x-rated. i’m not sharing that much)

it may change your opinion of me, it may not. i’m taking the whole “blogger keepin’ it real yo” thing to a whole new level. you’ve seen my dirty laundry, you’ve read about my health issues. it’s really only fair that now you hear about my dilation.

should you chose not to continue, here’s the cliff notes short version: water broke, went to hospital, i’m a-ok…la de da, cracking jokes and hanging out. then, craziness and screaming and within an hour or two there’s a baby.

long version…well, don’t say i didn’t warn ya :0)

(as background: i use a midwife but deliver in a hospital. i also get no epidural, and try to keep it as natural and uncomplicated as possible. my last delivery (little bear) was induced with pitocin, but no epidural or pain meds. i managed okay, but desperately wanted to avoid another induction and/or pitocin with this delivery)

everything went fine. it went the way i was afraid it was going to go--given how this entire pregnancy had been, well, basically miserable long tiring and difficult. so it was no surprise that the labor was also miserable long tiring and difficult, even though it was #5. i guess you can kind of tell from the fact that my water broke around 10:30/11 am and she wasn't born until almost midnight. (actually, we all kind of think it was after midnight, but the nurses were just doing us a solid so we could leave on Saturday! hehehe)

thursday (5/26) i was kind of reaching a whole new level of miserable. wednesday (5/25)afternoon i started having cont about every 4 minutes, i was queasy and shaky and didn't feel good at all. went to bed, they didn't stop. woke up at 3am...still contracting.

jeremy (aka the googiedaddy) stayed home from work to come to my midwife appt./non-stress test with me, and we decided to take the bags and car seat and everything. kind of a premonition i guess? haha...maybe just mommy/daddy intuition. so the midwife could see i was miserable, i was crying—which we agreed was always a good sign.

she did the nonstress test...i was still contracting every 4 minutes. we decided to have a cervical check to see if anything was happening. she said "well, you're OH!" and my water broke--popped really--all over her, her feet, the floor...hehehe. She said she was just about to say "you're a good 3 cm now and the bag of water is bulging right here".

I just started crying because it was FINALLY HAPPENING, and because i wasn't being induced. Yay!

So we went to get some bagels and called everybody and headed to the hospital....everyone thinking this is going to be pretty quick. the nurses set the labor room up for delivery pretty much right after i got there.

about 2 hrs after my water broke, still 3 cm. 2 hrs after that, 4 cm. 2 hrs after that, still 4 cm. my contractions were piddly little things. definitely stronger than the ones i had before my water broke, but i knew i wasn't dilating.

at that point the midwife said it was maybe time for "a mere wisp of pit", just to get things moving. at that point the nurse was saying “ohh, this is all your body needs...you'll probably have this baby in an hour.”

i wasn’t feeling so sure.

i'm telling you, i was soooo exhausted and miserable and just...downhearted. i DIDN'T want pitocin, but at the same time, I WAS DONE. part of me just wanted to get an epidural, crank up the pit, take a nap and wake me when she's crowning. honestly...if they had started talking c-section i may have gone for it. (the blessings of a midwife...no talk of pain meds or c-section...it was all me hehehe)

they started the pitocin low, and kept it low...i only got to 9, whereas by the time i delivered little bear i think it was at 28 or something. high 20's, i know that.

it just took HOURS. every time i changed position contractions would space out or stop for a while. every time i had to pee they would unhook me, and the contractions would just completely stop for 20 minutes. i finally said don't unhook me--just let me take the bag into the bathroom! i felt like all i was doing was sitting there, watching hours tick by on the clock. i handle these contractions well. the pain wasn’t enormous, we watched tv and sat. i couldn’t visit my babies—they weren’t allowed into L&D and i wasn’t allowed out. i was miserable.

early labor. still (sort of) smiling.

 

around 10 pm i asked to be checked because it was getting so late and we weren't sure what to do with the kids, if they should stay or go. (i could only have 4 people in the room for the actual delivery, so it was jeremy, the moms and girlfriend girl. everyone else could come in right after the birth, and i really wanted the other kids to be able to do that rather than wait until the next day) At that point I was still only 5-6 cm, -2 station. and there wasn't even any forewaters or anything that she could maybe break to get the baby to move down a bit more.

we decided to have them wait another hour, and if it still wasn't moving they'd get going for the night.

this is about where i turn the corner—my last 3 labors (including this one) have had a similar pattern. lots of waiting around—but suddenly it’s as if my body goes WHOA! let’s get this thing movin’! within a 1/2 hour or so the cont really picked up some steam. i said i wanted to go to the bathroom, and she said i could, but NO PUSHING. I had about 3 good strong transition contractions (which i did push a little bit through haha) sitting on the potty. it's amazing the difference though--i did about the same thing with little bear--a couple good strong transition cont sitting on the toilet pushed me from like 5-6 to 9 with a lip. but the INTENSITY of the contractions on full-on pitocin vs. just a tiny bit (and even vs. no pit at all if i think back to transition with the boy & tiny tim who were completely natural births—not so much as an iv)--seriously--like night and day. i was even saying to jeremy that they couldn't be transition because they weren't as bad as with little bear (despite my shaking uncontrollably, feeling like i needed to poop and starting to grunt and feel pushy haha)

we walked back out to the room, and I did 2 or 3 contractions standing up, and on the last one i said "I'M PUSHING!!!" (haha..."said"...right. more like yelled/cried/whined)

they got me on the bed and i'm not sure how far i was, but not 10. she said i could do some little pushes, just to get her head down. I asked for the squat bar, because i swear this child was sitting right on my tail bone and I couldn't take it.

I was pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing....everyone was doing the old "you're doing great! she's right there!" and I was all "YOU'RE A BUNCH OF BIG FAT STUPID LIARS I"VE HAD 4 OTHER BABIES AND I KNOW SHE'S STILL HIGH I CAN FEEL IT ALL I'M DOING IS POOPING ON THE BED"

to which they replied “but that has to get out of the way first for the babies head to come down.” yeah, thanks. jerks.

then the midwife got rid of the squat bar because she was coming down pretty quickly in that position and had me go back to the classic pushing position. but I couldn't take the pressure on my tailbone. so she told me to try pushing on my side. i did that for one contraction and i HATED it. I said as much and they said I could lay back again.

sidebar: any of my natural birthin’ mommas out there—do you ever find, even in the midst of the hard core craziness of pushing, when you’re nothing but pain and muscle—there’s a rational little voice inside your head that’s fully aware of what’s happening around you? seeing what’s going on? to the others you’re yelling “GET IT OUT!” but your inside person is saying to you “uh—dummy, only YOU can get it out. so chillax and push dude.” anyone? cause i totally have that. anyway…back to my story…

so then Rational Voice In My Head said "you hate it because it hurts. it hurts because it's working. you can feel her moving down finally. no position is going to be comfortable...just do it. Nike."

kidding...my inner voice isn't really sponsored by Nike.

so it was a couple more minutes of pushing at that point. i gave up waiting for contractions and just pushed like a woman possessed until she came out. they kept telling me to breath and i kept saying no...haha. i'll breath when I'm done.

seriously, when she finally came out i thought to myself "i should turn over and see my baby" and then right after that i thought "i don't even care. i just want to lay here and be NOT PREGNANT and NOT PUSHING and NOT IN PAIN for a minute and know that' it’s finally O.V.E.R.".

so i laid there until they made me turn over...ha :o) i basically had jeremy in a headlock the whole time, so i'm sure he appreciated that. :o)

anyway, 45 minutes of pushing--which i haven't pushed that long since I had #1—and only 8 lbs 7 oz--my smallest since #2 who was 8 lbs. 5 oz...both things completely unexpected.

 

BUTTTTT....NO STITCHES! Pretty much the last coherant thing I said before pushing really got moving was "c---- (my mw), I've never ever had stitches. GOT IT?" After that I degenerated into lots of "why didn't I get an epidural?" "i wish i had an epidural" "i'm never doing this again" "help me" and "get her OUUUUUTTTTT"....

that’s a tired lady. and a tired little bear who really didn’t understand or care when everyone kept saying “look! baby sister is here!”

so there it is, in as much graphic detail as I can remember for you. and for me. an epic reminder of just why it is that i never, ever, EVER want to do this again.

 

under pressure

percentage of the world’s population with red hair— 1-2%

percentage of the world’s population that is left handed— 8-15%

percentage of women experiencing postpartum hypertension— approx. 10%

see? i always knew i was special.

or a freak, some may say. but i know better. i’m spaay-shul.

last week we were over the in-laws, happily showing off five to visiting family.

i was starting to feel okay—my myriad issues seemed to be resolving. sure, i had had a headache for a few days…sure, my vision was a little blurry… but seriously—i’m working on just a few hours sleep with a newborn. normal, right?

and then googiedaddy decided to take his blood pressure. (yeah, that’s what you do for giggles when you’re hanging at the in-laws house) the bp cuff made the rounds of the room, everyone comparing.

then it got to me.

“oh, my blood pressure is always soooo low,” i chortled confidently. “if my diastolic is over 70 that’s high for me!”

famous.last.words.

153/104

huh. take 2—ditto. takes 3, 4 and 5—all about the same.

maybe it’s a fluke?

so tuesday night we checked it again.

151/100

weeeirrrd. so i did what anyone else would do—turned to the internet.

dr. google was not my friend that night: filling my head with words like hypertension and postpartum pre-eclampsia and seizure and…death.

i called my midwife’s office first thing wednesday morning, and when i told the receptionist my numbers her response was immediate: “can you come in today?”

my midwife listened to my story, and checked my blood pressure. yup, it was high. i had earned myself labwork and meds and bedrest and even a big orange jug to save all my pee-pee in for 24 hours! yay!

told you i was special.

so here i am…on bedrest. (i barely escaped readmission to the hospital. guess i’m not that special)

AGAIN.

my labs came back okay on friday, and they took some more blood to check again. i have an appointment with a blood pressure specialist on thursday.

until then, i float between bed and couch…watching yet more tv, playing more boggle on my phone, and reading more useless things on the internet. 

when i lay down my pressure drops as low as 110/60. when i sit up, it shoots up. if i stand? ugh. we won’t go there. it’s not pretty.

so, as usual, my life has a theme song.

It's the terror of knowing
What the world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming 'Let me out'

and for that brain worm…you’re welcome. :)

 

haiku

poo pee eat and sleep

encompasses the whole day

tomorrow, repeat

elliot june

may 26, 2011

8 lbs, 7 oz

20.5” long

she looks like her middle sister, tiny tim.

she has a soft, fuzzy head, and she smells just yummy.

 

we’re enjoying her at home.

and, well, we pretty much love her.

five

checklist

1. baby clothes washed, sorted, put away--check.

2. car seat ready and waiting--check.

3. hospital suitcase packed--check.

4. due date reached--check.

5. due date passed--check, check, check, check.

6. eat massive amounts of fresh pineapple--check. i think i'm single handedly supporting the economy of hawaii right now.

7. eat spicy food--no. i already have heartburn like the fire of a thousand suns. unless i'm looking to create an
alternate exit point for baby from my esophagus clear through my chest cavity i'll give this one a pass.

8. non-stress test to make sure baby is still a-ok--check. clearly a little too happy in there.

9. try "get baby out the same way baby got in"--check. and that's all i'm gonna say about that.

10. wash all the lower cabinets of my kitchen in a deep squat--check. and they really needed it.

11. bounce on the exercise ball--che-che-che-che-check.

12. relax and tell baby we're all prepared for her grand entrance--check.

13. cry and pout and yell because i'm not in labor yet--check.

14. calm acceptance of the fact that baby comes when it's ready and my only job is just to let her keep baking right now-
-check.

15. furious flip-flopping between #13 and #14 --check. 

16. paint toenails so they look lovely whilst i push--check. (not an easy feat...haha "feat")

17. take a ride on a bumpy road, eat chinese/italian/hot dogs, drink castor oil, etc...--uh, no. thanks, but no.

18. teach kids to answer the phone and say "no, mommy hasn't had the baby yet"--check.
19. continue to wait--chhhheeeeeecccckkkkkkkk.......... :o(

update

have you had that baby yet?


(thanks kate for the link!)

it's {past} my due date and i'll cry if i want to

still sportin' the bump.

still cranky.

my days consist of sleeping, eating, and checking the TP for any "signs". it's a thrilling life.

i can not believe i made it this far...

and now we wait

i'm boring. i know, and i'm sorry.


it's just that pretty much the only thing running through my head right now is "tenmoredaystenmoredaystenmoredays"


tomorrow it will be "ninemoredaysninemoredaysninemoredays".


and really...that just doesn't make for exciting blog posts.


i mean, i do get the occasional "what if my water breaks riiiighhhtt..NOW!" thought. but as suspenseful as that is for me, i'm not sure it really translates well to you.
because, well, my water didn't break.


suspense over.

i'm like the worst m. night shyamalan movie ever. you know, like, worse than the lady in the water or the lady of the lake or whatever that one was.

so, i clean. i "nest". i've washed tiny baby clothes, inhaling their precious scent and marveling over the fact that in mere days there will be a tiny body to fill them.

i've washed and assembled the car seat and it waits by the front door, currently filled with little bear's doll--her "baby sister" she calls it.

we took the kids to "build-a-{overpricedinsanelyexpensive}-bear" to make a present for their baby sister. it has their voices yelling "we love you baby sister" when you squeeze it's belly. ($8 additional)

my mom and i picked five's "coming home" outfit, something that has become our little tradition. (i pick, she buys. gotta love those traditions) it was a painful experience...literally. one that had me sitting on the floor of sears saying "yes. i love it. buy it. WHATEVER."

pretty much any sort of continuous upright movement brings on some fairly heavy duty contractions that start to get downright ouchy after a while. thus my unplanned department store sit-in.

i even went so far as to have googiedaddy get a suitcase from the attic and started putting stuff in it.

"hmmm...nursing bra? check. one pound of sour patch kids? check. whelp, i think i'm done here." (dusts off hands)
that's how you roll when it's #5 my friends. boil it down to the bare essentials.

and while this is all fascinating to me--being as i am a living, breathing incubator at the moment...i'm fairly certain it doesn't hold quite the same magnetism for you.

so, i'll just keep you briefly updated:

tenmoredaystenmoredaystenmoredaystenmoredays.

i think i'll go pull those sour patch kids back out of the suitcase. and maybe netflix a little m. night.

do you see cobwebs on my blog?

my 'nesting' has begun to take on that manic quality familiar to so many pregnant women.

i was up at 3 am this morning, thinking about the family room that desperately needed attention. and then i got up and attacked it for 2 1/2 hours.

in the last week or so, i have cleaned out every one of my children's dressers and closets.

at last count--around 8 trashbags full of clothes and shoes to be donated, and around 5 bags of trash to be tossed (as well as some larger items that weren't bagged...just snuck into the trash when the kids weren't looking)

i've sorted, washed, organized and put away all the clothes i have for the baby.

i washed out the car seat and went through all my "supplies", organizing and putting away and buying the few things i was missing to be fully prepared for this little one's arrival.

this weekend girlfriend girl will be getting baptized. my girl, making a huge adult decision. so we will be having some friends and family at the house for dinner. this is the first time we've really "entertained" in months (usually a much more regular occurance).

between the hormones of my pregnancy turning me into a one-woman whirlwind of sanitization and the hormones of my pregnancy turning me into a, well, hormonal mess who cries every time i think of the big step my oldest daughter is taking and so i throw myself into other things to try and distract myself and the fact that our home is not anything close to what i would normally consider "company-ready"...

well,....just, well.

i'm sure you can imagine.

all of this, of course, tempered by the overriding need to not overdo and somehow throw myself into labor. which is a distinct possibility--according to signs my body is sending up.

so, until after saturday i'll be doing my best to clean from the comfort of a rolling ottoman. broom in hand, vacuum trailing behind, paper towels and cleanser tucked in my sides like i'm packin' heat.

17 days people.

17 days.

take your protein pills and put your helmet on

this is it.

t minus 30 days.

i'm so close i can feel it.
no, really--i can literally FEEL it.

in every move i make it feels like this child is ready to...ahem...fall out.

fortunately i'm moving a touch easier these days. i had lots of concerned messages...and i want to give everyone an update.
i did a number of sessions with the physical therapist.

the "AHA" moment was when i said to her "i feel like i want someone to grab me by the head and feet and yank."

she said "can you lay flat for a bit?"
then we tried this..

okay, so it wasn't actually the rack. but it was similar. and ya know what? it helped. (those medieval guys were totally whiners. to me--that looks like the best.thing.ever.)

i don't know what it was--maybe it was the baby pressing on some nerve. and maybe pulling me apart a couple times like that jiggled something to move.

whatevs. all i know is i went from excrutiating pain on a constant basis back down to threat level yellow.

(whoa...astronaut mixed with medieval and a little government all mixed in today. keep up with my metaphors people--they move quick)

so thank you for all your well-wishes and concern. i really really appreciate it. more than i can express.

meanwhile i think we're finally beginning to realize that we're going to have a new baby in this house--sooner rather than later. it's probably time to start making some preparations.

if i can say this without jinxing myself--i really don't feel like it's going to be another 30 days. i'm having some serious contractions on a pretty regular basis.  this baby feels HUGE--she IS huge. huge enough that my midwife sent me for another ultrasound.

the verdict? "she's big, but probably your normal." thanks. what that really meant: "yes, you're going to be pushing another giant baby out of your nether regions. maybe next time you won't pick a 6'4" man to marry and father your babies."

so i'm trying to get moving...you know, just without actually moving. thank goodness for amazon.com and the internet. :o)

with a few clicks we had boxes of diapers and wipes and nursing pads and butt cream...technology is good ya'll.

the car seat and tiny girl clothes have come down from the attic.

when they'll get washed?

well...i still have 30 days. no rush.

would you like some cheese with that whine?

well, it looks like i'm in for the long haul.

we tried muscle relaxers.

nada.

went to the midwife again (i'm on 2 week visits now, which is an encouraging sign--we're GETTING THERE). she said forget the muscle relaxers, we're going to switch to straight up pain relief at this point and see what the physical therapist can do.

so i went to physical therapy. it's really not encouraging when the therapist has you do bunches of different movements to try and isolate your issue, and then sits and stares at you with what can only be described as a 'stumped' look on her face.

she said it's not my hip, it's not muscular, it's not sciatica. all of which i knew--but it's nice to feel validated. :o)
looks like somewhere in my very very lower back--probably my sacrum--there is a nerve being irritated.

'irritated', huh?
try 'ticked off to the highest degree'. angered like a two year old who was told no more candy. like a teenager who got the car keys taken away. like a pms-ing woman who can't find any chocolate in the house. like a pregnant woman who's husband won't go get her a milkshake from mcdonald's at 10:30pm.
you know, superduperfuriouslyangry.

and so she did some deep tissue ultrasound heating thingy, and had me do a bunch of different stretches to try and relieve pressure on the area.
when i left i was in a lot of pain.
by the time i picked up the kiddos and got home i could barely walk.
by the time i got in the house and to my bedroom i literally could not take my shoes off or climb into my bed. i was crying because it hurt so badly, and my poor 10 year old daughter had to help me undress and get in my bed.
i took 2 tylenol and called googiedaddy. i had to wait until he came home and the tylenol wore off before i could move on to the tylenol 3 to hopefully get some relief.
i spent the entire night laying in bed in massive amounts of pain. the one time i got up to pee googiedaddy had to practically carry me there and back as i cried the whole way.

needless to say i'm a bit leary of trying that again. (i'm going to call the therapist today and talk to her about it.)

i don't consider myself a wimp with pain. sure, i don't like pain. who does? but i've gone through one mostly and three completely pain-med free deliveries. the last one induced with pitocin and still no pain meds.

this.hurts.

there's no other way to say it.
and i'm tired. i'm tired of being in pain. i'm tired of crying. i'm tired of being in bed with a heating pad unable to move while life happens around me. i'm tired of hearing my children bicker because they're doing things that i should be doing and having to take on more responsibility than a 10, 8 and 6 year old should have to take on. i'm tired of my husband having to work all day, deal with me calling and crying because i'm in pain, and then come home and deal with 4 kids, getting dinner made, trying to straighten up the house and do laundry and take care of me. i'm tired of hearing myself whine.

phew.

i am surrounded by wonderful people. we have incredible family and friends willing to pitch in and help out. people who have brought us food, taken my googies to school and/or picked them up, taken away my dirty laundry and brought it back clean, vacuumed and mopped and dusted and picked up around the house. people who call and just ask how i am or what more they can do. people who offer to come scrub my toilets for cryin' out loud.
wonderful, amazing people.

but in the end, i can't shake the knowledge that i have 9+ more weeks of this to deal with, and so far there is no relief in sight. and that i am the momma. this is my home, these are my children.
i love being a mother. i love making them all clean, clipping nails and braiding hair. putting them in clean neat clothes and feeding them healthy foods that i made.
but right now i am an ornament.

is it too soon for us to talk about my symphysis pubis?

because, really, the last thing i want to do is make you uncomfortable.

but remember last week, when i mentioned the searing pain in my back whenever i even thought about moving?

it just wasn’t going away. not with heat, or muscle rub, or a massage or bedrest or ANYTHING.

instead of being worse at night and okay in the morning, it’s started to basically just be constant. i.e.—from the time i roll myself out of bed in the morning to the time i roll back in at night, i’m in constant debilitating pain, walking around in a manner amazingly similar to everyone’s favorite tv doctor.



you know, just without the bitter sarcasm and nasty pill habit.

oh--and the cane. but i could really, really use the cane.

all of this was leading me to believe that maybe it wasn’t just normal pregnancy back pain. ya think?

paging dr. google. dr. google, you’re needed in the self-diagnosis wing.

i looked up sciatica, since that seemed a likely diagnosis. but i don’t really have shooting pains down my leg, or other typical sciatica symptoms.

sciatica eliminated.

then i stumbled upon pelvic girdle pain, and it’s associated friend symphysis pubis dysfunction.

dingdingding! we have a winner folks.

i have a checkup with my midwife on thursday, so i’ll discuss it more with her then. but the many lovely symptoms the two share basically fit to a ‘t’ what i’ve been dealing with. even my special new walk…i mean, my “antalgic gait.”

the cure? well, i’ll boil it down for you: give birth. until then, deal with it. (there are different measures you can take to try and ease the pain, but nothing is really sure fire. more just stop-gaps.)

and here’s the really fun part:

“PGP in pregnancy seriously interferes with participation in society and activities of daily life; the average sick leave due to posterior pelvic pain during pregnancy is 7 to 12 weeks.^[5]
In some cases women with PGP may also experience emotional problems such as anxiety over the cause of pain, resentment, anger, lack of self-esteem, frustration and depression; she is three times more likely to suffer postpartum depressive symptoms.^[6] Other psychosocial risk factors associated with woman experiencing PGP include higher level of stress, low job satisfaction and poorer relationship with spouse.^[7]”
(source)

so here’s the super exciting breakdown:
my pain is here to stay, at least until i pop this monkey out. and because i tend to have bigger babies, it’s probably only going to get worse before it gets better.
i have a much higher risk of anxiety, depression and postpartum depression, things i have and do struggle with already.
my house and children are just going to continue looking worse as this pregnancy continues and i deal with this “condition” and it’s related issues (i.e.—unable-to-move-ness)

but really, don’t cry for me. there is a bright side.

now i have a diagnosed medical condition and so i don’t have to feel guilty about this:

come to me, my little electric savior.

she’s a very pretty momma…from her head down to her toenails

one miserable momma

+

one 85 minute pre-natal massage (yeah—85 minutes. you might think it would get boring at some point. IT DOESN’T)

+

one spa pedicure

=

one a little bit much happier momma

wait a minute…they’re here somewhere…

oh, there they are. in all their shiny red pampered slightly swollen glory.

have i mentioned how much i love that googiedaddy? he’s a good guy. probably why i keep havin’ his babies.

plus he’s cute.

le sigh

you guys...

this pregnancy thing?

it's kicking my butt.
KICKING.MY.BUTT.

before you say it--nay, before you EVEN THINK it--NO. it doesn't "get any easier" since it's my fifth time. i'm NOT "used to it" by now.

i am counting down the days until this is over. literally.

don't get me wrong--i am amazed every day at the privilege i have of carrying a child.
every kick, every wiggle--it's as fascinating to me as it was the very first time with the very first baby.

reading the developments that occur week by week...sharing them with the other googies...watching them light up when they feel their baby sister kick their hand...feeling their sloppy wet kisses on my belly every night before bed...

I LOVE IT.

but i'm done.

i'm still throwing up.
yup, you read that right. i am officially in my 3rd trimester, and i am STILL THROWING UP.

my back feels like someone stuck a hot knife in it last week. and won't take it out.

i can't walk, i can't move.

 i'm only 31 years old, and only 27 weeks pregnant, and have no major health problems, and i'm looking longingly at those electric carts at walmart. (and may have actually used one at sam's club last week.)

i alternate between sitting with my heating pad and hobbling around trying to get something--ANYTHING--done around the house.

which brings us to point 3:
my house needs a mommy. my children need a mommy. my SELF needs a mommy.

i get the bare minimum done--the largest of the sticky spots are mopped up within a day (or two). the laundry is mostly washed and piled up for everyone to dig out clean underwear. the kids get bathed every other day...or three...or four. everyone eats something a couple of times a day.

but we're going downhill.
f
  a
    s
      t


88 days.

88.

and in other news...

despite everything i just said, i am perpetually over doing everything. and with that in mind, i am feverishly working on my entry for the next round of "so you think you're crafty?"

cause, you know, what else do i have to do?

all quiet on the southern front

yesterday, on my way to work, little #5 did some kind of a weird flip/turn/wiggle thing in my belly. it was rather wild, and definitely unusual.


and then that was it.


i thought it was odd. but i figured she would start bouncing around soon and it would be fine.


10, 11, noon...nothing. by 1 i was starting to stress a bit. so i downed a quick cup of coffee and some dried fruit, figuring a little burst of sugar would get her going.


still nada.


as i got ready to head home at 3, i asked googiedaddy what he thought. should i call the midwife?


yes.


by the time i got through to her i was on my way home. she listened to my concerns, listened to my hemming and hawing about how stupid i felt and how it was probably nothing.

and then she told me to just on head up for a quick ultrasound.


gulp.


apparently, she didn't realize she was supposed to tell me i was crazy, it was nothing to be concerned about, give it until tomorrow...


so i turned around and headed back to work to pick up googiedaddy. we drove home to drop off little bear at mom-mom's with the rest of the googies, and headed up to the hospital.


i can hear you all...moms yourselves...stressing and whimpering right now. it's coming right through my computer screen. so i'll make it clear right now: EVERYTHING WAS AND IS FINE.


as soon as the technician put that ultrasound wand thingy on my belly i strained my neck--i could just make out the tiny flicker of a heart beating away.
there were some tears. she is fine.


and then the tech continued to scan...she finally cocked her head to one side and started chuckling.
"do you see how she's laying?" she asked.


five had managed to wedge herself completely sideways in my belly, and completely folded in half. her toes were at her nose.

now, in case you're more of a visual learner, i've done up this handy drawing to help illustrate what i mean:

no wonder i felt a rough wild movement.


and no wonder i didn't feel much more after that.


phewww...
deep breaths.


all's well that ends well.

no matter how many you have, it never becomes routine. and they each have the ability to cause your heart to skip a beat...or ten.
no matter whether in the womb or out.

so now i'm off to work on my next project--a maternity tee...

four weddings and a funeral

we went. we saw. we know.

it’s so exciting. you could say we were tickled pink. or did we giggle until we were blue in the face?

we left our appointment, and stopped for icees. i had the hardest time deciding—blue raspberry? or pink lemonade?

either way, we headed back to the car for the ride home, listening to some tunes…my memory is hazy—was it pink or the moody blues?

and as the evening ended we enjoyed a beautiful sunset as a family of seven. although i’d be hard-pressed to say if i found the wispy pink clouds or the deep blue evening sky more stunning.

……

do you think i’m funny? because i do.
in case you were wondering, some other idioms i couldn’t fit in: blue in the face, like a bolt from the blue, in the pink… there are a lot more “blue” expressions than “pink” expressions.

……

what’s that you say?
just spill the beans already?

:o)

well, there’s a lot more blue than pink expressions, but there’s a lot more pink than blue googies.

googie #5 is a girl!

not everyone is super happy about it though…
little man took the news hard. and honestly, so did the googiemomma. i really had a gut feeling it was a boy. (so much for gut feelings) and i knew it wasn’t going to make my boy happy—so my heart broke for him.

we set up a scavenger hunt for the kids. clues leading them through the house to the big reveal—a gift wrapped onesie declaring “little sister”.

they loved the scavenger hunt.
but when the onesie started coming out, girlfriend girl said “uh-oh, i see pink”.

and little man broke down.
he had taken the news hard when we found out little bear was a girl. and he does love his baby sister. but the boy wants a brother.

we consoled him. we pointed out the benefits to being The Only Boy.
we told him “hey, you’re going to get a new room now!” (four girls requires some rearranging)
he said “i don’t want a new room. i want a little brother.”

:’(

so i did what any good momma would do.

i blamed daddy.

hehehe

it is his fault, after all.

a good night’s sleep and some extra cuddles from mommy and daddy have gone a long way towards acceptance--if not overwhelming excitement--of another sister.
he’ll be fine.

meanwhile, i think googiedaddy is buying stock in kotex.

and i may have to start running some ads on here to save up for {gulp} four weddings.

four.

oy.

and little man quietly mourns the loss of a potential (possible?) baby brother.



since i know you’re wondering-NO.*





*we will NOT be trying again for a boy. this shop is CLOSED. you hear me googiedaddy? C.L.O.S.E.D.