Punkin

As you can plainly see, Bubbles (aka melonhead, aka punkin just for today and tomorrow) is still INSIDE of me.
Nobody is more shocked than his parents.
Dh says that he is a scorpio, therefore he has no intention of coming out voluntarily. After all this effort to keep him in long enough, it is pretty unthinkable to imagine that we will be kicking him out of his warm little womb. I feel kinda bad about that. I am also feeling very nostalgic about this being the last few days I will ever be pregnant. For as much heartburn and lung compression I am feeling right now, there is still nothing quite so wonderful in my book as feeling a baby grow and move inside of me.
So, on Wednesday I will go to have the membranes stripped (apparently as awful as it sounds), take the herbs and hope for 'natural' induction. If that doesn't do the trick, I will be headed for the pitocin around 9am Thursday.
I think I will now go have a quiet moment to mull that over.

Balls!!

Well, my cervical status remains the same. No further dilation, in spite of the many many contractions. So I guess it is just that temperamental uterus of mine.
I never thought we would make it this far, really. I am OVER 37 weeks pregnant, which is a record for me. This baby seems to be following a different trend - that of my side of the gene pool where babies cook longer and grow large. Grow large, round, melonheads.
Yes. Confirmed once again for the shock value on the mama's part. OB-friend did another ultrasound today to check my fluid (I never can say that with a straight face), and the first thing we noticed was that his head is VERY round. Not oval in the slightest. Round. Like a melon. Apparently, a rather large melon, as his head is still measuring larger than the rest of him for our dates (which are exceedingly accurate). His melon is measuring at 38 weeks + five days!!! Oh. My. God. I looked at that screen, and then I looked over at OB-friend and said "This image brings one word to mind. Spinal." Her response? "Not a bad idea. I would." She knows that I have birthed the first two without the drugs (she was there to witness the cursing and the screaming), and she knows that I am not so sure I want to do that again. She also knows that I HATE the pushing part more than anything. She also knows that his melonhead is not going to make THAT part any easier this time around. Personally, I am afraid it won't even fit!!!
Dh and I had decided that if he doesn't come out on his own by Halloween, that we will give him another few days and then boot him out next week. So today we found ourselves discussing induction dates. We had discussed this before, but I never really thought it would come to this! I still have that 'feeling' that Halloween is the day, but I have (occasionally) been wrong before. So if he doesn't feel inspired by Halloween to come out (and if he is really taking after my side of the gene pool, then he isn't planning on coming out on his own until Thanksgiving!), we will post the eviction notice next...Tues? Wed? Thurs? Haven't decided that one yet.
A highlight of today's appointment was when she did the ultrasound to check my fluid (snicker). After many comments were made on the spherical appearance of my baby's head, she needed to measure the distance between his legs and the uterine wall to get a good measurement on the amniotic fluid. But instead of an empty space, we got a good shot of Bubbles' testicles. A VERY good shot. And those babies are pretty damn prominent! Dh was of course, pleased. Now you may think that is a cliche - a shallow yet predictable guy reaction, but let me fill you in. Poor little Elijah was born with bilateral undescended testes. The rest of him was in tact, but those little balls were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the surgeon who found them when he was 10 months old had to go on quite the hunt for those little boys. So the fact that we can see this little guy's parts all very clearly is really a relief in many ways.
So, OB-friend was trying to get the money shot on the fluid, and Bubbles kept flashing his giant testicles at us. She would move the u/s transducer and he would move his bum and flash them at us again!! We kept laughing, he kept flashing.
I said it that if I managed to get the head and shoulders out, he might get hung up on his testicles. The first ever case of testicular dystocia! Think of the publicity!
Dh has begged me to delete this post before Bubbles can read.
I told him to start his own damn blog if he wants to be so bossy.

37 weeks

Still pregnant.
Uncomfortable...very.
Contractions...many.
Back=hurts.
Heart=burns.
Someone's head is wedged in my pelvis.
Grumpy.
Nesty.
HUGE.
Hugely sensitive.

Either something is happening or I am just having a moment with my irritable uterus. DAMN! Where IS that crystal ball????
Another day of labor closer to a baby, but another day of labor. ugh.
I want to be generous sounding and say one more week. Okay.
One more week.
BUT THAT IS IT!!!!!!!!!
ouch.

Non-sequitur

• I am hugely pregnant and have been in labor on and off now for four days. Make that five.
• Dear friend Heidi called me from where she is tripping in NYC this morning (this is why I have not yet given birth. I want her there to egg me on or chide me as I curse everyone around me. Come home, Heidi!) with this little story: Her 3 yr old son would not get his shoes on, in spite of being asked at least 22 times to do so. Finally she said, "Henry! Quit being such an asshole and GET YOUR SHOES ON!" Henry replied,"That is not an effective way to get me to do anything. Mom." Did I mention that I LOVE them?
• I don't mind talking about bodily functions or using anatomically correct words. Supergirl knows that she has a vagina, and that her brother will be coming out of mine sometime soon. I don't mind talking about poop; mine or yours. But one thing I am trying to get over my squeamishness about is this: mucus plug. You know. Cervical snot. THAT is gross. And mine is coming out little by little, thus proving to me that I DO have one that is slowly dissintegrating with each contraction. That thing stayed hidden from me the first two times but is now showing up. WTF? Does this mean that my water will break this time too, and force me to daintily step over my own puddle in Trader Joe's, or the preschool in the near future? Oh, the humiliation.
• As much as I don't mind sharing poo details, I am terribly afraid of pooing on my OB while pushing out melonhead. Because she is such a good friend, this seems worse. If we were not good friends, I wouldn't worry about such matters. But forever more, she can say to me, " remember that time you took a shit on me?!" She assures me that I didn't the first two times, but my other birthing friends assure me that I cannot get away with that THREE times. I don't mind her stitching up my hoo-ha, but who wants to defecate on the one you love?
• I have given birth to two of the cutest children in the universe, and am slightly concerned for the high standard of expectation for Bubbles to meet.
• Could you possibly disagree with me? That is Elijah. The one who died and I miss terribly. And of course, Supergirl. The one who kept me alive.
• I have to pee every 90 minutes. Or 30.
  
• I cannot wait to have breasts again. Oh, lactation!!
• Supergirl asked why 'those' are called 'breasts'. I answered, "because 'knees' and 'elbows' were already taken."

The belly won't be this size forever!

Guess what we did?
Supergirl is an artiste.

Portrait of Bubbles with rainbow hair.

And a free form modernist tum.

Occasionally I am wrong

Okay, okay. Nakedjen was right. There was no room for him to flip. Bubbles is NOT breech. I am clearly a classically virgo worry freak, and when I run out of legitimate worries, no good can come of it and I will drive everyone in my immediate vicinity crazy. I guess he really was trying out some yoga positions, or just reaching his hands over his head to mess with me a little. Because those were DEFINITELY cervical pokes I was feeling.
I am currently (or at least as of 2pm today) 2cm dilated (that's one more than last week) and OB-friend definitely felt the melonhead in its correct and ready position. How ready? Bubbles is at +1 station (BTW, that is not my womb in case you were wondering and I know you were). So really, it could be tomorrow, it could be another week. Even two. I guess she forgot her crystal ball today. Dh is slightly nervous with this progress. He suggested that we pack up the Eurovan MV and camp out in front of the hospital. Did I mention that we are a 45 minute drive from said hospital? I guess his concerns are valid. Really, my performance in this event is pretty much scripted beyond our control, and he knows that. HIS performance, however, is the real variable in getting me delivered to the hospital before I deliver!! We are both living in fear of a Friday afternoon labor, in which the worst Santa Cruz traffic is to be found between where we live and the hospital 30 miles south of us.
Anyway, I am so very excited! Tomorrow I am finally going to meet in person, the woman who croons to me in my dreams...Dr. Laura's worst nightmare but certainly not mine...Grace! And at the very same time, I get to RE-connect with long lost friend (who was never really lost at all but just a few miles away), NakedJen (the woman who may be called upon to induce me with teas and massages NEXT week - tune in). All this AND chocolate too. It is going to be a great meeting with much loudness, I imagine. If the laughing gets out of hand, though, SOMEONE is going to have to drive me to the hospital...because laughing causes some mofo contractions for me these days. They have been warned.

Hormonal monkey dreams

I truly have run out of things to worry about. My brain is awash. I have almost made it through the full moon without yet giving birth, in spite of the many many contractions. I took a nap and had a dream that involved the scary flying monkeys and grace singing 'send in the clowns' on local TV. Not at the same time. But very scary stuff. Hormone dreams.
Anyway, in lieu of having real things to worry about, I am now sure that Bubbles is breech. The likelihood of this being true is...well...let's give it 30%. Because as we know, melonhead is pretty darn big to be practicing acrobatic tricks anymore. Even today at costco, two of the sample sharing ladies got into an argument over how big my baby is estimated to be.
SSL#1: You due soon, honey. That baby about six pounds?
Me: Yep. Right on...at least that's what we think he was last week.
SSL#2: NoWAY that baby's six pounds, honey. That there is an eight pounder!! Mmhmm, I KNOW my babies, cause I had a fiver and a twelve pounder! You better hope he's comin out SOON, honey!
Me: Okay. Don't you even START talking to me about any TWELVE POUND BABIES. Because I don't want to hear it!
SSL#1: You gonna bring that baby back in here and show us, sweetie!
Me: I'll bring him in but you tell her to stop talking about TWELVE POUND BABIES. I have a weak heart. I can't take it.
SSL#1 and SSL#2 : snort, chuckle, guffaw.

So why am I so sure he is breech? Because when we stopped at the pumpkin patch to get supergirl an overgrown orange halloween squash, I had the most severe sensation that he was KICKING me in the cervix again, as he was when he was breech a few weeks ago. And where his butt had been, seemed more like a round little head pressing into my ribs. Oh, I certainly hope that I am wrong, and just cannot tell his butt from his head. (hopefully this flaw of mine will not last too much longer after he is born)
But unless he has his hands thrown over his head and is POKING me, then that was definitely a heel. Wedging into my cervix. Feel my pain.
I have been wishing for hiccups all night, because that is when I can usually tell where he is. But do you think he will hiccup on command? He will not. I think I need to try and go to sleep, or at least pretend that is my intention, because then he will surely begin to hiccup and attempt to keep me awake!
But sleep doesn't even sound that appealing when it involves flying monkey potential. I hope Grace sings to me again. That would be better.

36 weeks

It's rather exciting - I have never been this pregnant before! I mean, yes, I have been farther along in (one of) my pregnancies before, but this little Bubbles is BIGGER than either supergirl or Elijah, and I can feel it! WOW, can I feel it! Where I had not grown in the belly in the previous weeks, I had another growth spurt to make up for THREE weeks in just one! Truly, my breasts have now assumed a resting place on top of the lovely shelf my belly has made for them, which is rising over and obscuring at least three ribs. And my belly, with Bubbles' head being SO LOW and engaged, is very happy to rest upon my thighs. I feel as if I need to hold it all up, cupping my hands under the belly like a sling when I walk around.
This little guy is also more active than the first two, so I can feel him banging his head into my cervix, while pressing a heel into my ribcage and kneeing out my belly button all at the same time. Of course I complain a little - only when my lungs and bladder are simultaneously squashed- but I truthfully love (nearly) every minute of it. Of course, I wasn't kidding about the rabbit kicking when I bend or lean over too far. I mentioned this to dh and he looked VERY alarmed..."Rabbit kicking??" he repeated slowly, eyes wide with suspicion and terror.
Oh yes. Rabbit kicking. Look out, this guy is going to be a mover! I think dh is just getting the grasp of that. As if watching my belly play alien hasn't been a fair enough indication??

The fool's moon is coming right up, and I am hoping that Bubbles can resist its pull and stay put for at least another week (with supergirl's loud orders issued thrice daily)...but I have to admit, I am getting pretty excited to see the face that goes along with all those flailing limbs.
Did I just say that? Am I really starting to be all optimistic about the outcome here? Help - someone save me from my own body's hormone overdose!

fragile little hearts

Many contractions. Much begging and convincing to the Bubbles in the belly: No, not yet. Two more weeks to cook would be just great! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Making supergirl tell him to stay in there. She talks to the belly button: Here Mama? Or lower? Where is his head, Mama? STAY, BABY! DO NOT COME OUT YET!!!
She is good already at ordering her baby brother around.

She tried to do some gymnastics on the couch where I was resting and timing the contractions (8-10 minutes if you care) and waiting for the nifedipine to take effect.
No - please don't jump near mama! Please!!! STOP! You are going to land on the belly! Do NOT land on the belly!

Supergirl: Oh. Okay Mama. I'll stop. Because we don't want him to be born yet. It's too early. Because then he will die. We don't want him to die. Right, Mama?

I told her that he would probably be okay, but he would have to stay in the hospital for a little while. And we would prefer a baby that can come home to live with us as soon as possible.
She said that she would kiss him all over when he is born. But very gently.

Oh.....how I want to tell her that he WON'T die.

sigh.

Overheard

Supergirl was at a birthday party at the home of her best friend, E,who happens to be the daughter of one of MY besties, OB-friend. E and Supergirl were happily playing doctor in the playroom with the other 2 girls present, all between 3 and 5. Really, it was just 'doctor' they were playing, not 'obstetrician'.
Enter: the only boy to attend the party, W.
E says to W,"You can't play doctor with us."
Supergirl says,"Yeah. Because you're a boy. So you can't play."
E says,"Yeah. Because boys can't be doctors."
Supergirl, "Nope. Only girls can be doctors."
Other girls look solemn and nod in agreement.
W looks rather nonplussed by this declaration.
E goes over to the toybox and gathers an armload of trucks, walks over to W, and dumps them in his lap. "Here. You can play with those."

I have to admit, as much as the mommies felt guilty that the girls were excluding W, not one of us stopped this little interaction. We all grew up in a very different era, and felt not-so-secretly proud of our little girls...in a twisted sort of way.

Melonhead

So we went to the last scan-for-growth ultrasound with Stanford on Friday. I was, of course, freaking out because I had decided that my belly had not grown enough in the past two weeks. Well, that, and the fact that I had run out of things about which to freak out last week. But really...one day I was SO HUGE and then suddenly I just stopped getting rounder. I did feel like Bubbles was growing inside of me - his movements felt stronger and more, well, squished. Cramped. Like he is filling up the space and trying to put in an addition somewhere between my ribcage and appendix. Seriously, sometimes I feel his little foot (knee? elbow?) poking me in places where I thought my uterus wasn't.
Anyway, even dh confirmed that he thought my belly hadn't grown, so I was SURE, ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that something had gone awry. Besides, the docs kept telling us that this ultrasound would be the most telling, growth-wise. Since the growth issues didn't really show up with Elijah until late in the pregnancy. So I lost plenty of sleep Thursday night. Finally, when I got all slimed up with the warmed gel, I was asking his size before the doctor even had turned on the ultrasound machine! First thing we noticed was that his head is engaged - VERY low - and in position. No more breech baby. I was pretty sure of that anyway, considering that the pressure I have been feeling is a bit like walking around with a large mango between my legs, and if I dare to bend over too far, the little guy protests by frantically rabbit kicking me hard and fast. The next thing the doctor mentioned was that he has a big head. A BIG HEAD??? "No," I said, "we don't do big heads. Both our children had small heads."
The doctor laughed and said, "Not this one. This little guy is going to need some big hats!"
I must have looked a bit panicked, because I looked at dh and he said,"Don't look at ME. I don't have a big head!" To which I shot back."Well, don't look at ME. I don't have a big VAGINA!"
Of course the doctor found all of this quite amusing and continued to scan the belly while chuckling. He pointed out that Bubbles' chest was moving. "See those breathing motions?" He asked. "That means he is practicing. It is a sign of good neurological development."
This made me forget about the melon head briefly and have a momentary wave of relief. But then I said nervously, "So, umm, how big IS his head?"
Listen to this: All other facets of his growth registered between 33 and 35 weeks of pregnancy, which are totally normal, considering I was 34 weeks, 4 days, + the margin of error. His weight is estimated at 5lbs 7oz. Great stuff. HIS HEAD??? 39 weeks! Yes, 39 weeks. HOLYSHIT!
Now, considering that supergirl weighed 5lbs 13oz (36weeker) and Elijah weighed 4lbs 13oz (tiny boy at 37 weeks), this little bit of information makes me EXTREMELY NERVOUS!
Yeah, yeah, I know - I should be THRILLED! His size looks great! His neurological development appears to be great! I've had the steroids so that his lungs will probably be fine no matter WHEN I deliver at this point. I am thrilled, I am!
But I am more than just a tiny bit nervous about how I am going to rocket that melonhead out this vagina! I don't want to hear about all those nine pound babies you all have delivered. This is MY vagina on stage this month, and it's none too happy about the news. If he keeps growing at this rate, and if he isn't born for another 4 weeks, we are looking at a 43 week sized head!
I called OB-friend and told her that there was NO WAY I was going to make it to 39 weeks, and if I hadn't delivered by 38 weeks, I want an induction! She agreed pretty quickly when I told her the u/s results!
So Bubbles, I don't mean to sound too demanding, but please stay in until 37 weeks. I would love it if you come out with the ability to nurse. But please don't be too mad if we kick you out a week later because of YOUR GIANT HEAD.
That 38 week mark would be Halloween. I hope you don't mind. Because labor isn't scary enough on its own. Halloween would be a great day to give birth, don't you think?

Trial runs and social skills

So I had a dream last night that I was in labor. I woke up with some painful contractions. Very painful. I was a little confused for a while, thinking that the dream (I was in the hospital, moaning in the bathtub about how much it hurt - not exactly a dream I need a psychoanalyst's help with) had caused the contractions. After a while I realized that it was probably the other way around. I took a nifedipine (contraction buster) and gritted my teeth for another 1/2 hour until they stopped. The good news is that it kept dh up as well, so in my mind it was worth it. As long as I am not the only one suffering. From 4-5:30 am we were on the verge of waking up supergirl and heading out. The interesting thing was that I thought I would go running and screaming off to the hospital at the first sign of pain - being so afraid of our 45 minute trip there and having the unwillingness to deliver on the freeway. But in typical fashion, I moved straight into denial. I refused to talk to dh and answer his questions (Is that another one? Does it hurt?) - I figure if he is asking me if it hurts and i DON'T answer, he should figure out all on his own that the answer is YES GODDAMMIT.
All in all, it was a lovely trial run.

Dh said this morning 'I think I will have to get ready'...umm, yeah dildohead (dh)- not a bad idea! Since supergirl AND I have been packed for 2 weeks now. And put some blankets and string in the car while you're at it. I am MAKING him come to my next OB appointment (friday's ultrasound with stanford doesn't count) to ask OB-friend what he should KNOW in case we deliver in the car....I figure the least he can do since I can't be expected to breathe AND tell him what to do with the goddamn string at the same time.

So this morning I was a bit tired. I managed to haul myself off to acupuncture and then stopped for groceries on the way home. While there I ran into a woman who had been in my Bradley brainwashing childbirth class when I was pregnant with supergirl. I hadn't run into her since I was pregnant with Elijah, over 2 years ago. She took one look at my belly and said, "What?! You're pregnant again? With a THIRD?! Oh my god."
I said, " Umm, yeah, this is my third, but we're just trying to replace the one who died."
It. Just. Came. Out.
I know, I know - she totally didn't deserve it. But that's how I work. I put up with shit from other people for so long and then one day ( the dayI am tired from practicing labor all night) I just crack and let the wrong person have it. Friends who know me know that this was of course said tongue in cheek...that one of the things I HATE THE MOST is when people say things like suggesting we would be trying to replace Elijah with another pregnancy or another child. And you wouldn't believe how many people told me stuff like that after Elijah died. Of course, the number of those people doling out the assvice who had also buried a child was ZERO. And of course, all the reasonable people I know who have children (and even some who don't) would realize that it would be IMPOSSIBLE to replace ANY of their children, living or dead, and how ridiculous the concept is. What most people don't get is how ridiculous it sounds to even issue this suggestion or warning. It's just something that people say. And something that people should stop saying.
Anyway, I just blurted this out to this very nice woman, who instantly got tears in her eyes and made me regret my callousness. Turns out her son is autistic - so they stopped at just one. We chatted for awhile about the local Early Intervention programs and the isolation of being labeled as a 'special needs parent'....and then we parted.
Just another day in the life of me the bitch.

Selective Memories

Mom called today to see how I am feeling, and to make sure that I am still pregnant and didn't actually give birth and somehow just forget to let her know.

I would like to take this moment to point out that, while my mother is a very lovely person, she refuses to visit us in California because, well "we're the ones who left". Yes, 'we' did leave. Both dh and I are the ONLY ones from our families who left the state (the state of Pa, but I like to call it the state of agony) to lead lives 3,000 miles away from our relatives. And now, forever more, we must pay for that sin. Even though it was 18 years ago for me (21 for dh) and I thought that was what one did when one grew up. So, mom only visits when people die. And only then if she is heavily sedated and guided onto a plane by a trusted relative whose knee she can clutch for the six hour trip. Nobody comes to visit us from out of state when we have babies, not ever. I even said to her a few months ago, "Well, I'd ask you to come out and help when THIS baby is born, but I know you won't, so I won't bother to guilt you." My unguiltable mother answered quickly. Prefaced with the ever-predictable, "Well, you're the one who left." This was followed by, "Besides, you'll be coming back east [for the holidays, damn us, we already got the tickets to feed into the maternal expectations that we owe it to them] just five weeks after he's born, so we'll get to meet him then!"
Speechless. (that would be me)
Umm, yeah mom - because that's what it's all about. Making sure you'll get to meet him. Never mind that carrying or giving birth to a child after having one die in my arms is a uniquely anxiety-provoking experience through which I would love to garner a little - just a little - bit of extra support. Nope. Business as usual with mom. See you when you get here.

So, back to today. I assured her that I am still pregnant, promised her I would let her know when I go into labor, provided the time I do actually go into labor is suitable for her time zone, and updated her on the week of fun and 'close ones' that my uterus and I had.
Then I got just a little bit whiny and said,"Ooooohhhhh, I am getting SO nervous about that pain of childbirth again! The contractions. The unyielding fight between my abdomen and lower back than can end only in my cervix DILATING TO TEN. I am freaking out about all that reality all over again. And the STRETCHING. MY GOD THE STRETCHING AND THE BURNING AND THE PUSHING!" (yes, I was raising my voice at this point, getting myself a bit too excited with the vivid memories of the last two)
And mom said, "Well dear, maybe this time you'll have a delivery like mine and it won't hurt." At which point she regaled me - again - with the tale of how, when I was born she 'didn't feel a thing' until it was time to push. And how lovely it was to push, and what a beautiful and painless experience it was.
With disgust I retold the entire conversation to dh just now. And he said, "Yes, and maybe 39 years from now, you too can have a memory like your mom's and smugly tell everyone how childbirth didn't hurt YOU a bit!"
I love that guy.