Tonight I made the decision to stop pumping.

This means that soon you will be a bottle-fed formula baby instead of a bottle-fed breastmilk baby.

I am terribly torn about this decision and feeling rather sad about it. But at the same time I'm also feeling relieved.

I'm sad because I know breastmilk is best and stopping the pumping means stopping the breastmilk. I'm sad because I know that Benjamin is my last baby. This is my last time ever having the opportunity to breastfeed. I'm sad because nothing went like I wanted it to regarding the birth experience, so breastfeeding was my last shot at getting something right and I couldn't even do that. I'm sad that not giving breastmilk might mean a lower resistance to germs and he may get some raging infection and then I'll feel like the world's worse mother ever to live.

On the other hand. . .

I'm relieved that I don't have to plan how to live my life in three-hour increments so that I can either nurse or pump (mostly pump, since nursing just doesn't seem to be Benjamin's "thing"). I'm relieved that by giving a bottle exclusively I'll always know exactly when and how much he's had to eat, which might even lead to a SCHEDULE (that's an exciting concept all on its own). I'm relieved that after nearly a year I'll have my body back all to myself.

Basically, I'm a mixed-up bag of hormonally charged mommy-emotions. (Yeah, yeah, and what else is new.)

But I think that overall getting away from the pump and being able to live without constantly having to worry about how and when I can pump milk or, if I try to nurse, worry about whether he had enough and if I'll have to sit and nurse again in 30 minutes, will make me a better, less stressed out mommy. Certainly having a less stressed out mommy is the best thing for everyone.

Right?

Your first Christmas has come and gone, and we both managed to make it through relatively unscathed! (It was touch and go there for awhile though--you were, of course, the center of everyone's attention and all the noise and commotion was sometimes a little too much for you. And to be honest, for me, too, sometimes.)

Santa brought you blocks that make sounds when you shake them and this chair called a Bebe Pod that is for babies your age who can't sit on their own, and a Johnny Jump Up, which you're too small for right now but you'll soon be big enough to enjoy. Oh, and two books and four CDs and a bunch of stuff in your stocking (including a stuffed monkey that Daddy says looks a lot like you!). You got TONS of stuff. Between Santa and all of the family, you racked up your first Christmas. Your favorite toy so far is this big, plastic monstrosity that you lie under and bat at the dangling things hanging down. (I can't remember who gave it to you, Aunt Liz or Grandma Lovick.) It's electronic and makes a lot of noise, which I don't care for, but fortunately you have just as much with it with the sound off.

We had a fun Christmas.

But now it's all over and we've had a nice, quiet day-after-Christmas time, which has also been fun. (It's a cold, rainy day, which has made it even nicer to be able to stay home and do nothing.)

I'm trying hard not to think about the fact that in a week I have to go back to work full-time. I'm super bummed about that. Even though I know you're going to be just fine staying at home with Daddy, I am still sad that's it's not me who gets to stay home with you. But there's not really any way possible to make that happen that I can see. Maybe if we sold our house and rented some place or bought something smaller and did away with a lot of "extras" that we have, such as a car or two, cell phones, cable, etc. we could conceivably make it without my income. But even then, we'd be without health insurance and that's not exactly something we can do without. So I really have no choice but to work. I'm sorry. I really am. I'd love to stay home with you. But like I said before and keep telling myself, it's not so bad because fortunately Daddy can run his business from home and can stay here with you, so at least you don't have to go to daycare. I think I'd probably have to commit myself if I had to put you in daycare at this point!

Well, you're waking up from your nap so I'll sign off here.

I love you bunches, mommy's punkin' head funny bunny bubble boy!!

Dear Benjamin,
It's the eve of your first Christmas. Already you're nestled all snug in your bed and it's just a matter of time until Santa comes.

Of course, you don't care anything at all about any of this. Not yet. Not this year. Next year, of course, it will be a different story. But this year you're too small to have any cares at all, unless it has to do with eating, sleeping, or diaper changing.

But no matter, Santa will still come to visit you, as he does all good little boys and girls. And you certainly qualify as a good boy. The best, as a matter of fact, at least in Mommy's humble opinion.

Although. . .

This evening you weren't so very good. Not that you were "bad," or anything, you just weren't your usual sweet little self.

We tried to take you over to Big John's house for Christmas eve dinner, but it was so hot and noisy and bright there, and you were already so tired that you quickly became overstimulated. And when you're overstimulated you're grumpy. And when you're feeling grumpy it makes Mommy sad and grumpy (not with you, but with the situation). So we left early. You promptly fell asleep in the van and stayed that way until Mommy woke you up to change your clothes and your diaper before putting you to bed. Now you're all cozy, fast asleep (well, maybe not fast, but asleep at least) and Mommy is feeling much less stressed too, sitting here with her glass of wine, posting in your blog. Life is good.

Of course, I'll need to go to bed, as well, pretty soon so's Santa can come.

I wonder what he's going to bring for you?! I can't wait to see and then to tell you all about it after tomorrow.

Merry Christmas, my sweet baby boy.

I love you!

Sorry I haven't posted lately. For some reason my time seems to be in short supply lately (hmmmm, wonder why that is?). :-)

Today is Saturday. The Saturday before xmas. Donald is at work, Lizzie is sick with a stomach virus, the baby is fussy, and I've sent William off to the grocery store to get popsicles and such for his sister.

Benjamin is currently in his swing making "light" fussy noises at me. These will soon escalate into "heavy" fussy noises. Yep. There he goes. BRB. . .

Back. Paci is in place, but this is only a short-term fix. I will have to go pick him up in just a moment. The swing is not where he wants to be.

Oop. . .gotta go!

Dear Benjamin Bunny,

Happy two months old!!

Some birthday present, though--we took you to the doctor's office where they gave you two shots! One in each leg. You cried! I cried! But at least now I don't have to worry about you contracting whooping cough, polio, or a bunch of other things that I can't even spell, so maybe it was a good present after all. At least in the long run.

You weighed in at 13 lbs. 9.5 ounces. This puts you in the 90th percentile for weight. You're a big boy!

You measured at 23.25 inches--70th percentile.

And you have a big head, too. It's 41 cm, or roughly 16 inches in circumference. This puts you in the 75th percentile for heads.

I had noticed over the past few weeks that the tip of your nose appeared to be bruised, so I mentioned it to the doctor today and he seems to think you have a cavernous hemangioma. This means that you have a bunch of blood vessels under the skin in the very tip of your nose that give your nose the bruised appearance. It's similar to a "strawberry" birthmark, only under the skin. Your pediatrician assures us this is nothing to worry about, but you know mommy. . .I'm going to worry. At least until we get you in to see the specialist at UNC who the pediatrician recommended we take you to.

Gotta run! You've had enough of your bouncy chair and it's time to find something else to entertain you with.

I love you baby boy! So, so, soooooo much! You're a beautiful, wonderful baby.

Again, happy two months old!

A quick update (for some reason I cannot seem to find the time to post these days! :-)

Two days ago you purposefully swatted at your hanging toys that we have strapped to your carseat handle. This is quite the milestone!

About five days ago you started sleeping through the night, though I do have to use the term loosely because you won't sleep for long unless you're in our bed. It seems that as long as you're touching me you're happy, but otherwise you're not going to sleep for any length of time.

We are more or less breastfeeding full-time. I still have some supply issues at night and generally you get a bottle then, but I've been able to pump enough during the day that you can at least get breast milk in the bottle.

OK, you're fussing and I have to go get you.

I love you!

Benjamin's first Thanksgiving has come and gone. The Christmas tree is up and decorated. Today I am officially off maternity leave and tomorrow I actually have to go into the office.

Wah!

Where did the time go?!

Benjamin was six weeks old on Thanksgiving day. He's growing so quickly! Nowadays he's all smiles and, occasionally, laughs. He has such a beautiful smile. It's wonderful to see.

One of his favorite things to do is to lie in his playpen and look at himself in the mirror. Same with his swing--he likes to gaze at himself in the mirrored surface that hangs above him there. He smiles and "talks" to the baby in the mirrors.

He's such a good baby. Rarely does he ever cry. In fact, the only time he actually cries is when he's eating and he's stopped to burp. If he's still hungry he gets completely offended at being stopped and lets out a wail, but otherwise he seldom voices any sounds of distress.

Last night he nearly slept through the night. I say nearly because had he slept in the place where he was put down (his bassinet), he'd have offically slept through, but because he woke up around 1:30 a.m. grousing until I put him in our bed I have to say that he nearly, but not quite, slept through. Beyond coming into my bed, though, he slept through until 5 a.m. He had a bottle at 10 p.m., was wrapped up and put into his bassinet around 10:30 p.m. and did not eat again until 5 a.m. I'm excited for him. And for me!

It's going to be so awful having to leave him tomorrow. I know, I might as well get used to it because come January I'll have to do it everyday, but still. . . I am not looking forward to any of it.

Someone is getting a little grouchy at the baby in the mirror now. I think I'll go rescue him!

It's 5:30 a.m.

Benjamin is swinging in his swing, hiccuping and staring at himself in the mirrored surface above him.

I took him out yesterday to Durham to have lunch with the group at the office. I hope that he hasn't picked up some bug--he seems to me to look a little "goopy" this a.m. His eyes are a little watery and when he was nursing earlier he sounded stuffy. Hopefully he's just sleepy. (I know I am!)

Speaking of nursing, I remain torn about the whole process. I'm still pumping for him, and supplementing with formula when I can't pump enough to keep up with him, but I've also, just this week, started trying to nurse him some. Monday it seemed that he was doing well with it: he nursed several times throughout the day and then slept soundly for hours afterwards. And Tuesday I tried the same tactic, but that evening after I nursed him he still took 5 ounces of expressed breast milk from the bottle, which indicated to me that something still isn't working. He's still not getting enough from me when he nurses. Although. . .throughout the night and in the early morning hours he seems to do just fine. So I don't know, I can't figure out what the deal is.

A part of me continues to be frustrated with it--the worrying, the pumping, the being unable to go for more than three hours at a time without either the baby or the pump, the logistical and strategic nightmare of trying to leave the house for any significant stretch of time and trying to determine how I'll feed him during that time--and wants to just stop altogether and go to formula because, in my mind, it's easiest and it will give me peace of mind that he's getting plenty of nutrients, all the time. But then I think about how we're going into flu season, how he is still so small and has a such an undeveloped immune system, and how good breast milk is for him in that regard, and then I feel so awful for even contemplating giving him formula when I have milk. Even if the process of getting it to him (i. e. pumping) is a pain in the ass sometimes.

Generally I get myself through this continual internal struggle by utilizing the AA tactic of "one day at a time." I tell myself that today I'll pump and nurse and I'll not to worry about what I'll do tomorrow. Tomorrow I might decide to go to formula and not pump and nurse, but today, I will do what it takes to continue to feed him breast milk.

It also helps when I remind myself that he's not going to be this small forever. That, in fact, this stage is going to be hard to remember very soon, because time flies and before I know it he's going to be all grown up, so I need to stop worrying so much and simply enjoy each and every fleeting moment of the here and now. And if it means spending some of that here and now time hooked up to a machine, pumping milk, well, I won't be doing it forever.

And speaking of here and now, he's falling asleep again. And he's so, so, so, so, sooooo darned cute doing it, too. Arms stretched out, fingers occasionally popping up, as though he's waving at someone in his dreams. Making little sleep noises around his pacifier. I just want to eat him up, he's so beautiful!

I think, though, that what I'll do instead is try to catch a little shut eye here on the couch while he's napping.

Before I forget, Benjamin is smiling. Has been for almost a week now. He doesn't do it regularly, but I do believe it's definitely a social smile versus just some random facial twitch because when he does it he is looking at me and it's generally in response to something silly I'm saying to him.

Oh, and he is batting at his hanging toy that hangs over his playpen. Donald has this on video. While it does seem awfully early for this, it's happened too often to just be an accident.

We took Benjamin in today for his one month well-baby check and he was declared the epitome of well-baby.

He weighed in at 10 lbs 14.5 ounces, surpassing his birth-weight. This makes his mommy ever so happy!

Speaking of weight gain. . .and eating. . . I have rented a hospital-grade pump to try and help increase my milk production during the day. But I can't really tell that it's a whole lot better than the electric pump I own. But I'll keep using it, at least for a month (which is the increment of time that one rents these things) and see how it goes.

I've really come to grips a lot more now with the whole breastfeeding--or lack thereof--issue. Bottom line is that Benjamin likes bottles. He likes boobies, too, but not for eating, only for comfort (unless it's the middle of the night and he's super hungry--he nurses fine then). So if he likes bottles, bottles he'll get. And I'll try my best to give him as much breast milk as I can in his bottle, but if the day comes that I can't do it anymore, it'll be OK. I have given him breast milk for his first month of life, which is a month longer than many woman do it, so every additional month--or day, or week--I can do it is great but I won't beat myself up about it if I can't do any longer.

So, let's see, what else?

I went to see a movie with William last week. We saw American Gangster. Donald stayed home with Benjamin. It was nice to get out and just be with William.

Donald is wonderful with Benjamin. And it's so nice having a child with someone who wants to be actively involved with the child.

All in all, I'm feeling much, much more settled and better overall. The hormones are under control, the feeding issues are gone, and there aren't any other health-related problems with either the baby or me.

Now I just wish I could devise a way to never have to go back to work, yet continue to bring home the same amount of money!

So between all the formula and expressed breast milk supplements, Benjamin managed to gain enough weight at his Thursday weigh-in that we no longer have to go in for additional weigh-ins. Yay!!

Of course now I am faced with the dilemma of how best to provide him with nutrition. Can I go back to exclusively breastfeeding? Or will that result in a weight loss again?

What I've done today, and what I suppose I'll have to continue doing, is a combination of nursing, syringe supplements, expressed milk in a bottle, and formula in a bottle.

For example, this a.m. I nursed him exclusively through the night and again at 7 a.m. But at 10 a.m. I had Donald give him a bottle of formula. He took all four ounces! Then around 12:30 p.m. I nursed him again. At 3 p.m. I nursed him but I also, at the same time, gave him a syringe of breast milk. At 6 p.m. (or whenever he next seems hungry) I'll let Donald give him a bottle of expressed milk and I'll pump while he's doing that. Next time I'll nurse him again and then also let Donald either give him the breast milk I manage to pump at 6:00, or I'll have him give him a bottle of formula.

I'm not sure where this is going to lead eventually. Will I continue to be able to pump and do this quasi-nursing thing, or will it one day come down to where he's doing more formula than anything? I'll just have to play it all by ear, I guess.

Truth be told, there's a certain amount of. . .what's the word? relief? to bottle feeding. I know exactly how much is going into his little belly at a given time. Also, I'm afforded a little more freedom in that I can let others feed him. Of course, I feel guilty even saying that, because it's not as though I want to be away from him or anything, but there is a sense of, again, relief in knowing that I am not it when it comes to being able to provide sustenance for him.

Anyway. . .

He's awake again. I won't be able to type much more right now, I'm guessing. (Donald had his vasectomy today and is couch-bound for the remainder of the day and Benjamin, if I had to guess, will want to eat again soon.)

In the meantime, in other, more fun news Benjamin seems to have a birthmark on the right side of his head, above his ear. He also makes loud grunting sounds that lead me to refer to him as "Franken-baby." He has a perfectly round head with a covering of peachy-fuzzy hair. Because of that I sometimes call him "my fuzzy cantaloupe head." (I also call him "moon-pie head" sometimes, simply because of the roundness of his little dome.)

Oh well, time to heat a bottle of breast milk I do believe!

I haven't written in a few days. Mainly because I was under the (mistaken) impression that all was well and there just wasn't much to write about. Ha! I shoulda known better!

We have just returned from yet another trip to the doctor's office (it's simply a miracle that he hasn't caught some awful cold from all the waiting rooms he's been in during his three weeks on the outside now) where we have learned that not only did he not gain weight since his visit last Thursday, he actually has lost a 1/2 ounce.

Donald says not to worry, that a 1/2 ounce is nothing. But it is something. . .it means he hasn't gained anything and in nearly five days he should have gained weight, not lost it.

So the doc's LC gave me this syringe with a little tube that I'm supposed to run down into his mouth while he nurses that will provide him with formula supplementation. I'm to do this every other time we nurse today and then at least four times tomorrow, then it's back to the doc on Thursday for another weight check.

I'm not sure what to do on Thursday if he has gained weight. Do I continue to supplement with the formula? I would assume, since it would seem that it was the formula and not my breastmilk that caused him to gain. But if that's the case, why keep trying to breastfeed? What's the point if he's not nursing enough to gain weight?

Grrrrrr. I'm so frustrated. And worried. Why won't he gain weight? Why is he having trouble nursing? Why doesn't he poop? Why, why, why?

As for me, I'm feeling much more human.

Benjamin's lovely nighttime schedule is allowing me to get a goodly amount of sleep. I have lost almost all of my baby weight (still have about 20 lbs I want to lose, but I had that before I got pregnant). I can wear all of my rings now, even my engagement ring. And I'm wearing a pair of my "regular" jeans. Granted they are made with stretchy material in them, but still, they're ON and that's what counts!

Yesterday Benjamin was two weeks old.

We went to the pediatrician's at 9 a.m. for his two week check up. He's gained weight well since his last visit, so no more grief from the doc or the LC there about supplements or anything else. He had not, as of our visit, pooped in five days, so we were concerned about that and the doc said we could try a 1/2 of a glycerin suppository, but lo and behold last night he did the deed all on his own. We were ecstatic! Now if he'll just do that a little more often than once every five days. . .

Yesterday afternoon we went back to the urologists for his circumcision follow up. Everything looked good there.

On the way home from that appointment he got extremely fussy in the car. We stopped so I could nurse him, and he calmed down, but as soon as we got back on our way, he started fussing again. I ended up hovering over him so he could nurse while being strapped in his car seat. Not the most comfortable of nursing positions.

So during the day we still don't have a schedule of any sort worked out. Sometimes he goes for three hours without nursing, sometimes he gets all worked up and I'm nursing him every hour or hour and 1/2. I still worry about supply and still think sometimes that going to a bottle would be better--at least then I'd have numbers to go by--but I'm trying to stick with it a few more weeks to see how things pan out. By the time he's a month to a month and 1/2 I figure that we should start seeing more of a pattern to his nursing habits and if, at that point, it still seems as though I can't go more than a few minutes between nursing him, I may decide to switch to bottles.

Nights, on the other hand, are going rather well (knock on wood). I nurse him around 10 p.m. and then Donald gives him a couple of ounces in a bottle of either expressed milk (if I've been able to pump during the day) or formula. Makes him full as a tick and he sleeps for at least four or five hours. In fact, this a.m. he probably would have slept longer had I not gotten him up and sort of forced him to nurse while in bed with me.

So while that part is going well, I still don't see how people who have small children manage this (breastfeeding in the beginning). Lizzie and William are older and certainly less demanding (most times) than toddlers and I still feel as though I'm being unfair to them by being constantly tied down to nursing. I'm already stressing out about how I'm going to manage attending Lizzie's cheer leading awards stuff. That's where bottle feeding would be nice. And again, the numbers on the bottle would indicate exactly how much he's eating so I wouldn't wonder whether or not he's getting enough.

Oh well, we'll just have to see how it goes.

(True confessions: There's also some selfish motivation for wanting to continue nursing--it does burn calories and helps with weight loss.)

Right now we have to get ready to go over to Willa's. We're going to be there with her while she puts her cat down. Sad stuff. But I couldn't see letting her go it alone. Hopefully Benjamin's belly will cooperate with this effort.

Today was appointment day.

Mine at 11:00 a.m. in Chapel Hill (everything was fine--oh, and Benjamin had his hearing test and that, too, was fine), and then a consultation with a urologist in Cary at 2:30 p.m. for Donald (vasectomy!).

Benjamin more or less slept through the entire day, strapped in his carseat. In between the appointments we stopped at Regency Park so I could nurse him midday and then we had lunch at some icky coffee shop in MacGregor Village.

As far as nursing goes in general, Benjamin nursed last night around 10:00 and then Donald gave him the ounce and 1/2 of breastmilk I had pumped earlier, which he quickly downed. He slept until 2:40 a.m., at which time I got up, nursed him on the left (he went to sleep almost immediatley), changed his diaper, nursed him on the right (again, almost immediatley to sleep), and we went back to bed. He awoke again around. . .5? I put him in bed with me and nursed on one side, and we both fell back asleep until 7ish, when I rolled over and let him nurse on the other side. We slept that time until 9:00 a.m.

I suppose I need to stop putting him in bed with me, but it's soooo nice to be able to sleep. We'll see how it goes this a.m.

I had Donald give him a bottle of formula after our 9:00 a.m. nursing session this a.m. and he drank about an ounce and 1/2 and seemed very contented afterwards. I haven't done any further supplementing today, but will have Donald give him a bottle at his next feeding tonight, which should be around 10 p.m. I would have pumped today, but we were gone so much it was impossible.

Otherwise, what's going on? Let's see. . .

Benjamin's head control is improving. Amazingly so. He can hold it up and look around when on his tummy. And when I hold him in a sitting position to burp him, he holds his head steady then for quite some time.

Oh, and he is a very vocal baby. Lots of grunts, squeaks, and other noises, all the time. Lots of funny faces, too, to go with the noises. I need to get some video of him doing his thing. I wonder if this is an indication of how he'll be when he's older?

Tomorrow we have another visit scheduled with Cindi, the LC. This is all re: the fact that Benjamin didn't gain weight between his doctor visits. It will be interesting to see what her scales show. I personally think he's doing OK. . .but we'll see.

More tomorrow. . .

(This is something I posted on trianglemommies.com that I wanted to save here. Several mommies posted to add some pretty important points to it, but this is just my original post.)

If I wrote etiquette books. . .

This is what I would have to say about visiting new mommies and babies (granted at this moment I'm grumpy and sleep deprived, but I think that this will hold true even after I get some sleep--if that day ever occurs!):

1. Never, ever, ever show up uninvited. Also, never call and simply announce that you are coming. Unless you have been invited by the new mom herself, stay home.

2. Never call the house phone. It cannot be put on vibrate. Call the cell phone. If you don't get an answer or a call back, don't be offended. If the new mom does answer, don't try to talk to her about your problems. In fact, don't keep her on the phone for any reason, no matter what it is. Ask if you can come over, if she says yes, hang up. Ditto if she says no (except before you hang up, be sure to say that you completely understand and you hope she gets some rest).

3. If you have been invited over, unless you are planning to clean the kitchen, do laundry, or complete some other much needed household task, DO NOT STAY for longer than 10 minutes. If you do, in fact, help out around the house, do so quietly and plan to leave directly afterwards.

4. Bring food. Preferably casseroles or other things that are quick and easy to heat and eat.

5. If you do bring food, bring it such that you can leave it. Do not, under any circumstances, assume that the new mom and dad will want to eat with you while you're there.

6. Do NOT bring children under the age of five.

7. If you must bring children under the age of five, make sure to bring your S.O. and that you have worked out beforehand who is to supervise the child, as it is not cool to let him/her run freely throughout the new mom's house, thus stressing her out even more than she already is. Also, it is absolutely critical that you adhere to the 10 minute rule in this case! (Which unfortunately my friends did not do, staying for nearly two hours while their three year old ran amok.)

Yep, just when I thought things were going well, what do I do? I haul Benjamin off to the pediatrician's office to get his weight. Assuming, of course, the entire time that he's gained tons and that we are finally going to be pronounced completely healthy and normal. But naturally, that doesn't happen. Instead I find out that he's exactly the same weight, 9.85, that he was as the last time he was there (the 16th, six days ago now) and I get stuck with Dr. Personality (first name is No), who asked me numerous times, in spite of getting the exact same response from me each time, whether or not my milk was in and if Benjamin was eating at least every three hours (answers: yes and yes).

Something else to worry about. . .

Yesterday was a good day and things seem to be ironing themselves out in general.

Benjamin is nursing a lot better and being fussy a lot less. I'm getting some sleep (he slept from ~10:15 p.m. until 2:50 a.m. and I was able to get to sleep around 11 p.m.. When he woke up at 2:50 a.m. I was awake for about an hour, I guess, but then we all went back to sleep and slept until 6 something, at that point I nursed him in bed and then we slept until 9 a.m., so all totaled I got something like 9 hours of sleep!)

He is not, unfortunately, a big fan of his swing, as my other two were. He'll hang out in it for awhile, but it's not the continued source of soothing that it was to William and Elizabeth. Benjamin would much rather be held. Of course, then if you're holding him, he'd like to be nursed, too. But that's OK, this too shall pass I know. In the meantime, the daytime hours are a bit challenging, as I can't just hold and nurse constantly.

I have ordered a DVD and book entitled Happiest Baby on the Block that the mommies on the Triangle forum recommended. Supposedly it contains a lot of good ideas on helping babies help soothe themselves. Wish it would hurry and get here!

We don't have anything on today's agenda except to go to the pediatrician's office for a weight check on their scales. According to Cindi's scales, he'd actually lost a bit of weight, but I'm hoping that was just a difference in scales. We'll see this afternoon.

The rest of this week we have appts everyday. Tomorrow is Chapel Hill for me and Cary Urology for Donald (vasectomy time!). Wednesday I have an appt to talk to a Coast Guard recruiter with William and then Lizzie has an orthodontist appt. Thursday we follow up with Raleigh Urology on Benjamin's circumcision. Friday he has his two week check up.

*Whew*

It's going to be one of THOSE weeks!

But at least I have some sleep this time, and the weather looks like it'll be nice.

Benjamin's feeding times for the day (beginning Saturday, 20 October):

3:15 am: nursed
6:00 am: nursed
9:10 am: nursed
10:00 am: 2 oz. of formula
11:30 am: nursed
2:30 p.m.: nursed
4:00: nursed
5:15: nursed
8:15: nursed
*9:35: nursed
12:00 a.m.: nursed
2:00 a.m.: nursed
5:00 a.m.: nursed
8:20 a.m.: nursed
9:35 a.m.: nursed
10:40 a.m.: nursed

2:35 p.m.: nursed


*The 9:35 p.m. feeding was basically a continuation of the 8:15 session. When I nursed him at 8:15 we stopped for a diaper change, nursed some more, then stopped to put his clothes and his swaddle blanket on, then nursed. He finally stopped nursing around 10:15 and slept then until midnight.

So Cindi (Freeman is her last name) has come and gone.

And I'm feeling so much better about things. (Well, at least breastfeeding things--I'm still feeling a little weepy in general, but Donald has gone off to fetch the prescription of Zoloft that the Birth Center called in last night so hopefully I'll start feeling better all the way around here soon.)

Cindi was so gentle and kind and patient and she LISTENED to me. And best of all, she said that she thought things looked really good. That we both, Benjamin and I, seemed to be performing our individual parts well with regards to nursing.

Bottom line, though, is that I need to build up my milk supply and the best way to do that is to nurse. So what she has recommended for today is a "baby/breastfeeding honeymoon" of sorts: Stay in bed, lots of skin to skin contact, lots of nursing. And if tonight he does his "I'm still hungry" thing, give him a supplemental bottle of either expressed milk (providing I pump some today) or formula. (I'm so glad she said that--I was afraid that she'd be a breastfeeding nazi, as many LCs are, and would say "NO BOTTLE FOR YOU!" and would make me feel really badly about the bottles he's already had, but she isn't/didn't and instead was really cool about being flexible.)

So I'm going to do the stay in bed thing (with lots of sunshine and lights so that I don't get depressed) and see what happens.

Whatever happens, right now I feel better, and that's nice.

Maybe I will get through this!

Last night was great.

Around 10:30 I had nursed Benjamin for, all totaled, over an hour, but he was still hungry, or acted that way, at any rate. So I had Donald give him roughly two ounces of breast milk I'd pumped earlier. He downed all of that and went to sleep.

And he slept until 3 a.m.!

At 3 a.m. I got him up, nursed on one side, had Donald change his diaper, nursed on the other side, laid him back down and he slept until. . .6? Ish.

At that point I got him up, put him in bed with us and nursed him on both sides again.

He slept until 9:10!

But then. . .

I nursed him on the left side. I had Donald change him. I nursed him on the right side. He just played on that side, never really nursed well. But he acted as though he was done, so I put him in his swing so that I could eat something for breakfast. He immediately began to scream. And nothing made him feel any better. Not the swing, not Donald holding him, not being burped. So I did it. I broke down.

I gave him a bottle of formula. (Well, I gave Donald the bottle of formula to give him.)

Two entire ounces he ate.

And now he is, seemingly, contented.

He's swinging in his swing, not asleep, eyes wide open, in fact, no pacifier, just hanging out. No screaming.

I don't understand what's going on. Either I don't have the milk or he isn't latching on correctly or maybe he has had enough of a bottle that he really isn't interested in working at the breast anymore. I just don't know. The midwives at the Birth Center have said that Hispanic babies are switched back and forth from breast to bottle from the start and don't seem to have any issues, so maybe it won't be a big deal with him either.

But I feel like such a. . .failure.

I want to breastfeed, I really do, but at the same time I don't want to be a human pacifier, and more importantly, I don't want him to be hungry.

I'll be very interested in what the lactation consultant has to say today. I hope she can help. I know that formula isn't going to kill him, but I mean, sheesh. . .nothing else has gone right--I didn't have the birth experience I'd hoped for, he had the whole bilirubin issue and we were out of the house everyday his first week of life to take him to someone who would stab his foot--at the very least I'd like for breastfeeding to work out.

P.S. Note to self: I opened the can of formula today, Saturday, 20 October. The can says to discard any unused powder in a month.

Benjamin is now eight days old.

Today has been a good day, compared with the past few.

I slept last night for probably. . .six? hours. Not straight, but total. Not too shabby.

I had, last night, decided that I might just call this whole breastfeeding thing quits. But I called a lactation consultant today; Cindi somebody (can't remember her last name), who was recommended on the Triangle Mommies forum. She seems, on the phone at least, both knowledgeable and nice. Sympathetic to the plight of new mommies. She's coming here to the house tomorrow to do an assessment. This'll cost money, but if she can help me feel better about the whole breast feeding thing, it's money well spent. And I've decided to give it three months. If I can nurse him for at least three months then I won't let myself feel guilty for stopping. If at three months things are going smoothly, I might consider giving it another three months so that he'll have been nursed for six months total. Almost all of the studies I've read about the benefits of breastfeeding use six months as the time frame of the study. But if at three months I'm still having issues and it seems that we would both be better served by bottles of formula, that's what I'll do.

Other than the breastfeeding thing, though, I wish I could make myself feel better in general. I am trying so hard to be upbeat and optimistic, but this depression lies just beneath the surface and it takes just the tiniest scratch to bring it bubbling up. I can be feeling fine, then wham! it'll hit me.

Today the "thing"that has me depressed is the loss of freedom. I think back to a mere week and a half ago, when I was lying on the couch, reading a book, doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. Or a month ago, when Donald and I spent the evening all by ourselves in a bed and breakfast, no demands on us at all. And yes, of course I thought about all of this when I decided to get pregnant and I was perfectly aware of what sort of sacrifice of time, emotion, etc. having a baby would mean. . .but that doesn't change the fact that right this moment I'm a tad resentful. And OF COURSE I feel guilty as hell for even feeling that resentment. So there you go, today's problems: resentment and guilt.

And those are just the most recent bit of neuroses to strike me. Add it to the ongoing feeling of inadequacy, the constant worry over things I can't change, and the overwhelming anxiety I have about the future (both near and distant--e.g. from having to go back to work to Donald's health) and what you have is someone who feels completely out of control and lost. And I can't get it to stop!

Far out. Just typing about all of this has gotten me all teary and morose feeling.

God, what is WRONG with me?? I want OFF this ride!!

Maybe I will go on Zoloft!

In the meantime, thank FSM for Donald. If he weren't here I think I'd have seriously lost it by now.

This depression comes over me in waves. I can feel it coming, taking over my entire countenance. I know it's hormonally driven, but knowing that doesn't make it better.

It's not been a bad day, either, all things considered. (Which further proves that it's a hormone thing.)

Benjamin was circumcised today. And while we were waiting in the doctor's office for the doctor to perform the procedure, his (Benjamin's, not the doctor's) umbilical stump fell off. So he left two pieces of himself in Raleigh Pediatric Urology.

But on another note, I have what appears to be a malfunctioning breast. My right breast doesn't seem to be producing milk for some reason.

Going to go look it up and see what I can find. The What to Expect the First Year book addresses it and suggests that I've just preferred the other breast for some reason, but then it also says something about occasionally the infant will reject a breast with a malignancy. Naturally this is what I've focused on.

It's official: I am a milk machine. And that's it. A human milk production facility.

Oh, and Benjamin won't sleep. Not on his own, in his own space, for any length of time that would allow me to sleep, anyway. But boy, haul him out to the van, strap him in his car seat, lug him out of his car seat, put him in his stroller and take him to a middle school football game complete with yelling and screaming and he sleeps. . .well, like a baby.

Meanwhile, I've been reduced to a milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie.

But at least tonight I'm not a crying milk-producing, sleep-deprived, hormonal zombie. Not yet anyway. The night, though, is young. But I'm trying hard to maintain. Donald helps me. He is such a wonderful husband. If not for him then I seriously think I'd have to give consideration to checking into Dorothea Dix, or the equivalent thereof.

I don't understand, either. I wasn't like this with Lizzie. Perhaps I was a bit with William. . .I do recall going to the pediatrician's office one day with my breasts bound in an Ace bandage because I just couldn't take it anymore. Fortunately they were able to talk me down and I resumed breast feeding. But I was 18 then. It was understandable that I should have a hard time coping. I'm not 18 anymore. I've done this twice already. I made my living taking care of not one baby but five of them at a time in child care nurseries. So what in the hell is going on here? Why am I struggling so much?

I don't get it.

And I feel so guilty.

I've contemplated bottle feeding.

I know! How awful!

He needs breastmilk. And I have breastmilk.

If only he'd SLEEP.

I nurse him. He sleeps. I lie him down. He sleeps for ten minutes at a time. Then he wiggles. Startles. Cries. I nurse him. It's a vicious circle.

Currently he's in his swing. Moaning. Working up to a cry.

I just nursed him an hour ago.

I guess I'll nurse him again.

I'm serious about the bottle thing.

But I'd feel so damned guilty. . .


P.S. His bilirubin level went down even farther today, from 13.8 the day before yesterday to 13.2 today. And he pooped today. He hadn't pooped in over 24 hours and I was getting a little wigged out. But he pooped today, so I'm happy. (Bet there aren't many occasions in life where one gets to write such a sentence. Thank FSM.)

I can't stop crying.



Today (Tuesday) wasn't a bad day, really. Benjamin actually slept pretty well last night and was doing great this a.m. But tonight, for some reason, he won't sleep. By himself, that is. He sleeps great if I'm nursing him or otherwise holding him, but as soon as I lie him down he starts wiggling and crying. He won't sit in the swing either. It's going to be one of those nights.



In the meantime, I have a low grade fever and everything in the world is wrong.

Benjamin is four days old today. (As days go, it's a good one so far. He's slept. He's eaten. He's "played" with me. Hopefully tonight will be a good night, too. Last night wasn't much fun, he was colicky.)

The past three days have been a total blur. Which I always assumed they would be, but in this case, they've not just been a blur of new baby, but a blur of doctor visits and near-hospital admittance.

Benjamin has blood group incompatibility jaundice.

I'm blood type O+. Benjamin is type A. We're not compatible. I have produced antibodies that are inside of his little body, attacking his red blood cells.

I did not mean to do this.

He's being treated here at home with a "biliblanket," a light-emitting device that he wears on his back constantly. The day before yesterday his levels had increased by nearly 5 points. Between Saturday and Sunday they'd only increased by one point. We have to go have his blood drawn daily to determine how things are going. I'm hoping that they tell me today it's going down. But I don't want to get my hopes up too high. While he is eating frequently and is well-lighted, he's just not eliminating waste as he should be. He hasn't had a dirty diaper in over 24 hours. And last night he obviously had tummy troubles, as he was a very colicky baby there for a few hours.

So now I'm worried about the inner workings of his little abdomen.

Worry, worry, worry. That seems to be my new M.O.

That's the other thing. . .I'm so hormonal and weepy. I'm sick with worry--about the baby, of course, but also about just anything and everything, too, it seems.

There hasn't been one day since his birth that I haven't broken down in tears. And I'm not weepy over the whole jaundice/poop issue--which if I'm going to cry you'd think that would be enough to keep me busy--I'm all emotional over things that I can't control at all.

For instance, this a.m. in the shower I started crying because William is going to visit UNC-W this weekend. That means he's going to be leaving soon. That means I'm losing a child. That means that Lizzie is growing up. She's nearly 13. She'll soon be changing, becoming a teenager. Leaving me. This means that Donald is getting older. He's 62 already. We've been together for 10 years and they've gone by in a flash. What's going to happen in another 10 years? I'm going to blink and he'll be 72. What will he be like then? What biologically does he have festering under the surface that I can't see that might take him away from me? From Benjamin? I don't want him to leave me. Leave us. And I know, I know, I know. I can't stop time. And worrying about all the things to come and the what ifs means that I'm not engaging and enjoying in the here and now. I know all this. And still I cry.

God, I'm a mess.

This is an account of Benjamin's birth (yes, though I had my doubts, he was finally born), picking up where I left off from the last post:

Wednesday, 10 Oct. Donald and I made yet another trip to Chapel Hill. We met Maureen at. . .I don't remember what time now, but sometime in the morning. She examined me and, lo and behold, the Foley catheter, while it hadn't fallen out, had made some difference to my cervix. She estimated that I was between three and four centimeters dilated. This was great news. Only one problem: I was no longer contracting.

Initially the plan had been to immediately admit me to UNC and get the induction process going. Unfortunately, UNC was having a rush of pregnant women delivering babies, so Maureen went with Plan B, which entailed officially admitting me to the birth center and using homeopathic methods of inducing labor.

So after going downstairs (to the birthing rooms), Maureen started pumping me full of blue and black cohosh. Every 30 mins I would take a shot of the two herbs mixed with distilled water. It tasted like. . .nothing really. She also bound my belly up in a sheet (in hopes of pushing Benjamin down toward the exit sign) and had me walk. Donald and I took a nice stroll down a little wooded road behind the birth center, but by midday it had gotten warm enough that I no longer felt good being outdoors, so there was quite a bit of sitting, or lying down, doing nothing.

Hours passed. Still no contractions.

Liz and the kids showed up around 1 or 2. My Dad and Carol showed up, too, after awhile. My mother came for a little bit. We watched a movie. At some point Maureen finally convinced me to drink castor oil. I'd made up my mind that I wasn't going to go that route, having read nothing conclusive online about its effectiveness, but I let her talk me into it because, I mean, what the hell, I wasn't doing anything else, might as well give it a try.

It really wasn't so bad. She mixed the oil with coca-cola and then had me chase that concoction down with a Reese's cup. I held my nose so I couldn't really taste the oil, but nothing was going to mask the consistency. Urg. But the peanut butter cup made it all better.

I expected it to work immediately, but it didn't. No effect whatsoever for. . .two hours or more. And then it really wasn't the horrific event that I imagined it would be. (The Big Mac and french fries I ate for lunch probably had just as much to do with the gastrointestinal issues I had as anything!) Coincidentally, though, shortly after the effects of the castor oil began, contractions also began. (My theory on the castor oil thing is that I eat enough oil and other rich stuff--cream, butter--that castor oil was not a big deal to my system.)

It was. . .5:45ish and we were sitting around, doing nothing much (which is what we did most of the day) and I started having mild contractions. Once the contractions seemed as though they were around to stay, Donald started timing them and they were fairly consistently five minutes apart. At this point, Maureen had been bugging UNC for a room and we were waiting to get the word from the hospital that we could come over.

Somewhere around 7:30, when it was obvious the contractions were around to stay awhile, Maureen had me go for another walk. Everyone came along and we walked around the block. As were coming up the back side of the birth center, I could hear someone calling my name from the parking lot. UNC had called to say that they had a room and I was to get there ASAP. So, scramble, scramble, we got up all of our stuff and headed down the road to UNC. Donald dropped Suzanne (a GSK co-worker and licensed masseuse whom I'd "hired" to be my personal masseuse during labor) and me at the door and we went and got into the room while he parked the car.

They started pitocin almost as soon as I got into the room, but Maureen said that they didn't give me much at all, so I don't know how much of the labor can be attributed to pitocin and how much to the fact that my body had started the process itself, but not long after I got to UNC the contractions really started to get intense. Very intense. Extremely intense. So intense that at one point I wished that I would die rather than endure the pain. If it hadn't been for Suzanne massaging my back and Donald letting me lean my forehead into his hand, I'd have never been able to handle as much of those contractions as I did. They were bad. I'd never experienced anything like with William or Lizzie because I'd gotten an epidural earlier in the process.

I had to get an epidural this time, too.

I still feel kind of like a failure because, I mean, here I was going to have the all natural birth experience at the birth center, no IVs, no monitors, no pitocin, no epidural. . .but there I was, laid up in the hospital, monitor wires everywhere, IV line in my hand. So much for my plans. But I thought, well, the least I can do is have a birth with no pain meds. However, despite all the awful contractions, I just wasn't dilating. And the pain. . .the pain was wearing me out. So I eventually gave up there, as well, and had an epidural. I must admit, it was wonderful to see the contractions spike on the monitor but not to experience them. Still. . .

Oh well. The best laid plans. . .

So, anyway, around, I don't know, sometime early morning on the 11th, I started feeling the contractions again. Nowhere near the level of pain as before, but no longer was I able to sit back and watch them happen on the monitor without being able to feel them. Eventually I told Maureen that it felt as though the baby had lodged himself smack between my legs and that I thought that a push or two would be a good thing. After examining me and discovering that I'd finally made my way to 10 centimeters, she agreed. The time was somewhere around 5 a.m. Donald was on my left, along with Lizzie and Liz. Suzanne was on my right, helping to hold my right leg.

I pushed.

And I felt him move down.

I pushed again.

He moved some more.

I pushed again.

I could feel him there, crowning. Maureen had me feel his head with my hand. He couldn't stay there, it hurt too badly.

I pushed again.

This time I don't know what part was where, only that the pain was unbearable and he had to get out of there. Had to.

I pushed again.

And again, taking only a moment to catch my breath.

It was 5:39 a.m.

One more push. . .and there he was! On my belly instead of in it. All 10 pounds of him. Wet, slimy, stunned. Glorious. Beautiful. Gorgeous.

Our son.

Benjamin Radcliff Zepp.

I'm in love.

Let me see if I can quickly capture the past two days.

Yesterday we went to the birth center where Maureen, the midwife, swept my cervix. Almost immediately after, I started having contractions. She sent us to UNC hospital for an ultrasound. The ultrasound indicated that the baby, while still enjoying a thriving uterine environment, measures at a birth weight greater than 11 pounds! After Maureen got the results of the ultrasound and saw how regularly I was contracting, she sent us out to get some lunch and walk around, too see how things progressed. Contractions continued, going from 5 mins apart to 2 or 3 minutes apart. We went back to the birth center at 3:30. Maureen got a room ready downstairs and had me hang out in there, with my belly all bound up, to see what would happen. I guess we stayed there. . .I don't remember, a couple of hours, maybe? Nothing else much happened, no dilation, so we went home with instructions to call this a.m.

This a.m. I called at 8:30. Was told to meet Maureen at 12:30. Went in, had an exam, still no dilation. A doctor from UNC was there, she examined me, swept the cervix again. She and Maureen discussed my options. Option 1 was to go home, come again tomorrow a.m., do another sweep and see what happens, if no change then they would insert a Foley catheter into my cervix to see if that would help dilate it. Option 2 was to go ahead and insert the Foley catheter today, go home, if no progress tonight then to go to UNC tomorrow morning to be medically induced. I went with option 2.

They inserted the Foley catheter, after much painful poking and prodding, and I immediately began to have contractions. We stayed at the birth center a couple of hours and were given the choice to hang out there or go walking around Chapel Hill and see what, if anything, happened, or to just go home and see what would happen. I chose home. And here I am still. It's now 10:15 p.m. Tuesday evening.

Contractions have basically stopped. Although I still have the occasional one that really hurts like hell. There's blood at the end of the catheter, which freaked me out a bit, but Maureen says that it is normal and perhaps a sign of dilation. But since contractions have more or less stopped. . .I dunno. . .I'm thinking that there's really nothing going on. What good are contractions without dilation and what good is dilation without contractions? And why, oh why, won't this baby come out?!

It looks to me, at this point, like I'll be at the hospital in the a.m. But. . .wait. . .the midwife just called. I could be going to the birth center first and trying some of their herbal induction stuff. Good grief! Who knows what's gonna happen now? I'm going to go get in the bath and then go to bed.

To be continued. . .

Sunday, 1:30ish, and I'm happy to report that I have lost my mucous plug. This sounds, I know, rather icky and unappealing, but to me it's fantastic. It's an indication that something, at least, is happening related to oncoming labor. Of course, the pregnancy books and literature all say that loss of this mucousy (is that a word?) thing means only that something is going on with the cervix, it does not necessarily mean that labor is right around the corner. In fact What to Expect. . . says that labor could still be weeks away. Good grief, let's hope not!

It's October 6th. Five days past my "ultrasound" due date. Eight days past my "calendar" due date. Since it would seem the ultrasound due date is the more accurate of the two, I'll go with that one as the official due date, but either way you look at it, I'M LATE!!!

And I'm extremely frustrated.

I just don't understand why things are not progressing. For three weeks now I've been exactly one centimeter dilated. Supposedly I am pretty well effaced, but effacement doesn't mean a thing without dilation. And of course I can't help but wonder, what is wrong with me! What is going on internally that is causing this whole process not to progress. And what would they have done about it 100 years ago, pre-inducing drugs and hospital intervention? Would I be facing the death of my child? Or me? Or both? Because at some point the womb becomes an unhealthy place and the baby becomes distressed. So what then?

I know come Monday that they'll start looking at such scenarios and trying to prevent them from occurring, but I can't help thinking the worst is going to happen. And I can't help thinking that somehow I'm defective. Here I am, Mrs. Fertility with the wide, child-birthing hips, but without the ability to actually go into labor. And all these months that I've been dreaming about my calm, serene birth-center birth are going to be just that, a dream. In the end I'm going to have to be strapped to a fetal monitor, flat on my back in a hospital bed with scores of strangers poking and prodding at my most intimate of body parts.

And of course there are fears about the baby. Is he going to be OK until they get around to sending me in for ultrasounds to determine the health of the placenta and the level of amniotic fluid? Is there something wrong with him already and that's the reason that I'm not dilating--there's a defect there that they haven't seen?

I'm scared.

And frustrated. And angry. And increasingly depressed.

I'm to the point to where I don't want to do anything except curl up on the couch and sleep so I don't have to think and worry. Unfortunately, sleep continues to be elusive due to achy knees and hips, an overburdened bladder, and as of this past weekend, a head cold.

I know that one day soon this all has to be over, one way or the other. But exactly how it's going to end is the mystery and it's driving me crazy thinking about it. Chances are I'm just being impatient and paranoid. . .but if so, I really can't help myself. Something just doesn't feel right. . .

Well, we're back from our visit to the midwives.

No change since last visit re: cervical ripeness, unfortunately. Was sent home with instructions to be sure to take evening primrose oil each and every night and to come back early next week for a "stripping" of the membranes around my cervix.

I've pretty much decided that none of this stuff really works and that I'm just not granola crunchy enough to be going to a birth center where one obviously has to suspend belief in scientific proof of efficacy and instead be willing to accept anecdotal evidence as sound proof. Sorta like people who believe in religion have to do. Wait. . .

Yes, as nice and cozy as I believe giving birth at this place is going to be (if I'm able to give birth without medical induction--something else I'm beginning the feeling isn't going to happen), I would trade it all right now for a scheduled induction. I would. Honest. I might regret those words later on, but right now that's how I feel.

Anyway, off to finish a movie now. Maybe something will happen tonight? Maybe, maybe, maybe. I can always hope, anyway.

Today is D day. Due date day. But no sign yet that Benjamin has any inclination of coming out and joining us anytime soon.

We have to leave here in a moment for my weekly visit with the midwives. I'm hoping that they'll, through the exam, be able to tell me that something has changed, but I have to admit, I'm not going to hold my breath. I just don't feel like there's been any change.

Will update the blog after the visit.

Have I mentioned before that I'm tired of being pregnant? Standing is uncomfortable, sitting is uncomfortable, lying down is uncomfortable, walking is uncomfortable--everything is uncomfortable. My hips ache, my feet hurt, I'm as swollen as an engorged tick, and I'm tired because I have to wake up at least three times a night to either flip over or use the bathroom.

But I went in to see the midwife today and she examined me and I'm only a centimeter dilated--the same as I was the last visit, two weeks ago. Total bummer. And I'm beginning to think that all these "natural" methods of trying to help speed things along are a load of crap. I did acupuncture, nothing. I've been using the oil of primrose, nada. I'm beginning to get really discouraged.

I talk to the baby everyday now on the way in to work. I tell him that it's time to come out and meet face to face. That I understand how nice and cozy it is in there where he is, but how great his room looks and how he's really going to like meeting everyone and would he please go ahead and make an appearance already.

And yeah, besides being physically miserable and exhausted, I am ready to finally meet this child. I just can't wait to lay eyes on him. To see who he looks like, what color eyes he has, whose hair he inherited, whose temperament he has ended up with. To hold him and smell him and rock him and nurse him and play with him and teach him things and just be with him. This stage--the pregnancy--has been fun, but now it's time to move on to the next event: having a baby.

So when will he come? I'm beginning to get this awful feeling that he's going to be like his brother and simply never want to come out. Should that happen they'll eventually send me to UNC hospital and induce me, which would be extremely disappointing because that is not the way I have planned to deliver. But I suppose at that point it really won't matter. By that time it would be close to the middle of October and if how I feel now gets steadily worse as the days progress, then by the time mid-October rolls around I'm betting that I'd be willing to do most anything just so long as the end result is having the baby and being unpregnant.

Urg.

Well, I really need to write some thank you notes, but I'm full of Mexican food and Baskin-Robbins ice cream and I'm just not feeling particularly industrious, so I believe that I'll go lie down and try to get as comfortable as I can and read a book.

Maybe next time I get a chance to post I'll have had the baby! A person can dream, anyway. . .

Hi Benjamin!

Guess what? You're 37 weeks old now (gestational age)! It's time to go ahead and start thinking about coming out to see us.

Please.

Mommy is getting very tired of hauling you around in her uterus because you're getting to be such a big boy now. It would be sooo much easier on Mommy's back and hips if she could occasionally carry you in a sling or, even better, put you down on your own in your pretty little bassinet.

The midwives also agree that it's OK for you to come and be with us out here. So will you please consider it soon? As much fun as you and I have had together, we're going to have even more fun once you decide to come out. I promise!

Will you at least give it some thought? Ideally you'll wait until after this Saturday, because Daddy and I have plans to go to a bed & breakfast Saturday in Durham. But if you decide that you can't wait that long, that's perfectly OK by me. Daddy and I can always reschedule and go another time.

Just think about it.

I love you!

Love,
Mommy

It's official, I'm ready for this to be over. Being pregnant has, for the most part, been an enjoyable experience, but I'm at the point now where every bit of the fun has worn off and I'm simply miserable and ready to have my body back.

It's 2:20 a.m., Labor Day. I can't sleep. I was asleep, a little while ago, on the couch. But then William came home, with three friends in tow, which added to the two friends Lizzie has over, has resulted in seven tween- or teen-aged monsters lurking in various areas of my house. While they aren't the core reason I can't sleep--that has to do with only being able to position myself either on my right side or my left side, meaning that either my right arm and leg or my left arm and leg aches and falls asleep throughout the night, depending--they are now a large part of the reason that I can't get back to sleep.

William and his friends are upstairs in the bonus room and Lizzie and her friends are downstairs in her room. I could go upstairs and banish William and his friends to his room and take over the couch up there, but it wouldn't be any better than I have it down here, on the living room sofa, where I can clearly hear Lizzie and her friends in her room, so I may as well stay here. At least I expect pre-teen girls to be goofy and silly and, therefore, am not as likely to go biting heads off as I would be if I had to listen to teen-aged boys acting goofy and silly. As it is, I'm sorely tempted to go round them all up, girls and boys alike, and dump them off at their respective houses.

It's not been a good evening for me in general. I was feeling out of sorts for no explainable reason earlier in the night. I'm still feeling that way, only now I have also tacked on insomnia, physical discomfort, and general pissiness at having so many !@#$%^ people in my home. I keep reminding myself that it's a good thing that the children's friends want to be here, because that way I can keep tabs on them all. But tonight I'm having a hard time feeling positive about such things because all I really want is peace and quiet and a good, comfortable night's sleep.

Not that I'd be likely to get that even if there weren't any children here. Again, sleeping is simply not comfortable these days. Although I generally don't suffer from insomnia, I do wake up on and off throughout the night with a full bladder and sore arms and legs, never sleeping for any length of time at any one stretch. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to sleep either flat on my back or splayed out on my tummy! Soon enough such positions will be possible again, I know. In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do, except accept being achy and sleep deprived and try not to verbally or otherwise harm the children and/or their friends.

I'm going to sign off now and give the living room couch another try. I was able to sleep there earlier, hopefully I can again. Of course, if these girls don't shut up soon. . .

There was a comic in the paper the other day that sort of summed up my approach to this whole blog thing. Of course I can't remember which comic it was (I can hardly remember my own name these days), and I can't find the !@#$ paper either, but it essentially was about how one starts out with high expectations and aspirations for writing monumentally important thoughts and ideas but eventually ends up reporting the simple, mundane, everyday stuff, such as what was served for dinner the night before.

That is exactly what has happened here. I mean, sure, I do want to talk about some the mundane stuff, because a year from now I'll have forgotten that I was craving fig newtons and felt like a Mack truck had run over me for most of the last month, but I also was hoping to find a place to share some of my "deeper" thoughts and feelings about this pregnancy and about the person I am currently creating here in my uterus and I really haven't done much of that. I certainly think about such things all the time, but I never seem to get what's swirling around in my head to come out here on the screen.

So what stops me from being able to share that stuff? It's just too much work? Lack of writing ability? I'm afraid it'll sound trite? Or stupid? I get bored and distracted too easily? A lack of time?

All of the above?

Sigh.

Oh well, I am hereby making a promise to myself to do better next time. Right now the cleaners are here and I have to find somewhere to hide out.

Hi Benjamin,
Well, we had our baby shower today. We had a nice turnout--Aunt Liz seems to feel that approximately 50 people were here--and we (well, you more so than me) received a lot of lovely gifts.

I'm glad it's all over though, to be honest. I was combing my hair earlier in the day while getting ready and I pulled a muscle in my back. So it was tough having to play the happy & polite hostess when all I really wanted to do was go lie down and make my back stop hurting. Not to mention that the six women who threw the shower for me (Aunt Liz, my mother, Shaile, Rayna, Willa, & Kristen) all ended up nearly killing each other, which was pretty stressful for me. Not that any of them were rude or ugly to each other today (well, except for maybe one little episode), still. . . It was fun and it was nice seeing everyone, but it's also nice that it's over.

Even though we got a lot of stuff, I still have many things to get. We didn't get a swing, or a playpen, or a car seat thingy for the stroller, or a diaper bag, or nearly enough blankets, or any wipes and diapers (we're going to use cloth, but they recommend not starting those until two weeks after you're born), or a breast pump. . . Anyway, point is, I now have a lot of shopping to do and not too much time to do it in.

Well, your father, it seems, overindulged in the wine today and is now snoring loudly here beside me, so I think it's time for me to go harass him and keep him awake until it's closer to bedtime. (Plus he said he'd rub my back and I intend to make him live up to that promise.)

Much love,
Mommy

Hi Benjamin!

It's been a little while since I checked in here, just thought I'd write and give a brief update on how things are going.


Actually, not too much going on lately, which is good. I don't expect much action for another month or so. You're growing, I'm growing, we're both doing well.


We have finally gotten the nursery painted and most of the furniture in it (we're still waiting on the dresser to come in) and it's all coming together nicely, as I envisioned it. There are still some small things to do in there, such as hang artwork and put books and toys on your shelves, but that's just "fun" stuff that I can wait to do even after you're here. Especially considering as how you will mostly be in my room in a bassinet for the first few months after you're born. Mommies are very paranoid and feel the need to keep the baby close by. (Or at least this mommy is like that, anyway.)


This weekend your aunt, your sister, and several of my friends are putting together a baby shower at our house. I'm looking forward to it. Mainly because after this weekend I'll know for sure what I don't have and can go out and get it. I have held off buying a lot of things until after this shower in the event that someone else gets it. (I'm not the best about returning stuff, so it's better that I only have one of something.) Of course I'm also looking forward towards seeing everyone and eating lots of yummy things. :-)

Speaking of yummy things, your father sent me a link to some study wherein pregnant rats who ate a lot of junkfood had baby rats who preferred junkfood. Now I'm not a rat and neither are you, and the study did say that a human correlation really couldn't be had at this time, but IF there's any truth to it then I think you're doomed to like junkfood because these days sweets are high on the list of foods that sound appealing to me (which is a rather short list most days). Some of my current "favorite" sweet things are: fig newtons, figs & goat cheese on crackers, ice cream (preferably in a waffle cone), pudding (I do try to limit it to sugar free), oreos, Loco Pops (Mexican Popsicles available only in Durham/Chapel Hill), and Mellow Mushroom's oatmeal cookies.

Besides sweets I still have a thing for Mexican and Indian foods. Other than that, though, it gets tough sometimes to think of things to eat that sound good. Some days I have to force myself to eat dinner simply because I know I need to.

Other pregnancy goings on? I am getting tired again, sort of a repeat of the way I felt the first trimester. Bone tired. Dog tired. Want to lie down and nap all the time tired. It doesn't help any that we've had a couple of intense heat waves where the temp has been >100 degrees F for several days in a row. Heat like that saps the strength out of "normal" people and it really does a number on those of us of the pregnant persuasion.

Oh well, speaking of tired, I think it's about time to call it a night.

Love you!

Mommy

Dear Benjamin,
Your father accompanied me on one of my regularly scheduled visits to the birth center today. You are doing just fine: heart rate is in the 140s, you're measuring normally (they measure my tummy to determine this), my blood pressure is absolutely fine, etc.

We actually got to see you a week or so ago. We had a "4-D" ultrasound performed, and although you were mostly hidden behind the placenta, we still got a few glimpses of your face. From what I could see, it would appear that you have my nose and perhaps your father's chin. We'll have to wait another two months, though, before we'll be able to tell for sure! What I could definitely see is that you have all your fingers and toes and that you're are absolutely a boy-child. (I have to admit, I was still a bit skeptical about your sex, considering what we went through earlier in the pregnancy.)

This past weekend your sister, your great-aunt, and I started painting the nursery. I'll need to do another coat, which I hope to get accomplished this coming weekend, and then we can begin setting up furniture. Everything furniture-wise has come in, with the exception of the dresser and the glider rocker. (That reminds me, I need to call about the rocker--it's about time for it to be here.) The baby shower is planned for August 19 and I would ideally like to have the nursery at least mostly together by then.

So let's see, what's going on with me at this point pregnancy-wise? Not much, I'm happy to report. I've had some Braxton-Hicks contractions, but those are completely normal, especially considering that you are my third pregnancy. I'm feeling pretty ginormous now, but in reality I'm not all that big, at least as far as my belly is concerned, simply because you're not all that big. The doctor who performed the ultrasound put you in the 29th percentile for your "age" (using measurements of your head, legs, etc. along with your due date to make the determination), which means that while you are absolutely within the normal range, you're on the small side. This is exciting news for me, for it seems reasonable to assume that a smallish baby will result in a not-so-painful birth. Yay!

So even though I feel huge and ungainly, and sometimes simply walking around takes a lot of effort, I am, for the most part, able to get around and function in an absolutely "normal" fashion. Sleeping is really my biggest challenge right now. First off, you tend to wake up just when I'm trying to doze off, and you move and turn and toss and kick and generally make it such that I can't relax due to all the activity in my abdomen. But then, once I am (we are) both finally asleep, getting and staying comfortable is an all night affair.

At this point I have two basic sleeping positions to choose from: right side sleeping or left side sleeping. I usually start out on my right side with one pillow under my head, another behind my back, and my long body pillow in front of me with one end between my knees and the other supplementing the pillow under my head. I normally stay in this position until either my hip and knee hurts enough to wake me up, or my ear gets so sore I can't stand it anymore. At that point I flip to the left side, which is pretty much a mirror image of right side sleeping except the back pillow is absent, staying instead in front me, under the body pillow. Again, I stay in this position until the hip, the knee, the ear, or all three at the same time, wake me up. Or until I wake up to go pee, which happens at least once, but here lately it's been more like two or three times, a night. Fun stuff. So while I am enjoying this pregnancy, I am definitely looking forward towards being able to sleep "all by myself" again, and in more than two positions.

Oh, so I think that we have once and for all decided on your middle name (note, though, I said "think"--this is still subject to change, but for now it's been decided): Radcliff. I'm not certain that is how Radcliff should be spelled. Your father will need to consult his family bible to determine that, but for now that's how I'll spell it. Radcliff is your father's paternal grandmother's maiden name. It was also your father's father's middle name.

I had previously decided that we wouldn't "do" family names, but Radcliff is OK because it has nothing to do with my family. See, my family is still pretty much around, and they all tend to want me to name you after them, so I obviously can't choose a name from my family because then someone will be upset that I chose, say, my father's name to give you instead of, oh, my uncle's or something. But your father's family is, unfortunately, mostly gone, so there isn't anyone who will be upset by our choosing Radcliff over someone else's name. And besides, Radcliff is, to me, an interesting name. It's unusual, yet not too much so. And it has a certain. . .sophistication to it. It's aristocratic and erudite and masculine. It has a definite snobbish undertone to it. Anyway, if it sticks--that is, if we don't end up changing our minds--I hope you like it. There's history to it, if nothing else.

Well, enough blogging for now. It's getting late. Time to get the pillows out and begin our nightly ritual!

Much love,
Mommy

Dear Benjamin (I shall refer to you by your name now instead of as Blob, as you are much more baby than blob at this stage in the game),

Happy third trimester!

Yes, hard to believe, but we're going into the third and final trimester (hence the "tri" in trimester). Yesterday marked the beginning of the 27th week. Everything I've read says that were you to be born now you'd have a 90% change of surviving. Not that I want you to be born now, I hope that you will wait until you're fully cooked before trying to make your way out, but if you decide to come early I feel good knowing that you'll most likely be OK.

I'm actually feeling pretty good, all things considered. Sure, I've gained 20 lbs and that doesn't make me terribly happy, but 20 lbs in seven months isn't so bad (I think I gained close to 50 with your brother), and all in all I feel great.

Oh well, your father has cooked dinner and says it's time to eat. Goat cheese pizza, mmm-mmmmm! I'll write more later!

Love,
Mommy

I haven't written in awhile and, because I'm extremely tired and don't feel like working at the moment, I thought I'd take a moment and make an entry in the blog. (Which I really need to change the name of since little Benjamin--and that is his name, but ssshhhhh, don't tell anyone--is certainly not very blob-like anymore. But I'll worry with that later.)

I am not tired because of pregnancy stuff, I'm tired because I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading last night. I was reading the book The Perfect Man: A Novel. It was, obviously (since I stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish it), a very good book. That's the problem I have with books though--if they're really, really good I want to do nothing but read, and I mean nothing. Not sleep, not work, not take care of chores, just read. Today, however, I am paying for my obsessive reading habit. Fortunately, I have to leave early to pick up Lizzie from school, so I can go home and catch a small nap before I have to take her to swim practice.

Pregnancy-wise how am I feeling? Actually, not too bad. I am certainly feeling pregnant now; that is, I feel big and bulky and reaching down to tie my shoes is already an ordeal. (Thank FSM for flip-flops and loafers!) But otherwise I feel OK physically. Not too tired, not too emotional, not overly sensitive to smells anymore, etc. All these hormones are making my skin look exceptionally horrible, but that's to be expected. Kinda like having PMS for days on end. But yeah, all things considered I am doing well, I think. I'm trying to swim at least three times a week; more if I can. Swimming is about the only exercise I do that doesn't make me feel like an awkward moose. I had to quit aerobics because of the step part--I just feel as though I don't have much coordination right now and, besides, it's too much of a chore maneuvering all this extra weight around. I was trying to walk, as well, at least three days a week, but I haven't done much of that lately for one reason or the other, and with the weather turning warm I am not likely to start back on any kind of regular basis (although it is good for Donald and when I don't walk he doesn't walk so I probably ought to walk just to get him up and active).

I wonder about Blob/Benjamin constantly now. How he's doing in there. What he's looking like. If everything is OK internally. (Please-oh-please don't let all that wine I drank before I knew I was pregnant matter!)

I saw a little boy at the pool this weekend--a toddler--with this mop of curly blond hair and I couldn't help but wonder: Will Benjamin have thick, curly hair in the manner of Donald's, or merely thick, straight as a stick hair, like mine? Will he be towheaded or will he share my mousy brown locks? Will he be sensitve and sweet, or will he be rough and tumble, banging his toys together and pow-powing everything with the guns he'll make from whatever object is available to him? Will he like to read, or eshew books as my other two have, despite the hours and hours I read to them when they were small? Will he be athletic and tall, or studious and stout? I can't wait to find these things out. I can't wait to meet him.

Yikes! I have a 2 p.m. meeting and it's now. . .2 p.m.!!!

Oh well, back to work!

Dear Blob,
It's official, you're a BOY! (And you're not much of a Blob anymore, you are looking like a regular ol' baby these days, so I guess I need to maybe change my greeting to you.)

The doctor was wrong, wrong, wrong last time. You're not a Lillian or a Zoe, you are most certainly a Benjamin or a Simon!

I (we) had an ultrasound two days ago. You are 18 weeks along, and the doctor managed to get images that distinctly show which sex you are.

I have to admit, because I had been thinking of you for over a month as a girl that it was a bit of a shock to discover that you're a boy. I initially was preferring a boy, but then they said "girl" and so I started to get excited about that. So I'm having to get my head back around "boy" again.

I am, quite honestly, just happy that you appear to be a healthy baby. Your sex is really secondary to that.

The main reason to know what sex you are is to get started on the nursery. And to do that, tonight your father and I are going out to Babies R Us and looking around. I have to start by finding some kind of crib bedding I can tolerate. I haven't seen much online that I like, so I'm hoping that in person I will find something. From there we'll do furniture and paint walls and such. Exciting stuff!

I'll keep you posted.

Much love,
Mommy

Dear Blob,

I felt you move for the first time this past Thursday night.

I was in class and you took my breath away with a kick or a punch or something. Twice you did this. Then you merely fluttered for a bit. Since then I have felt tiny little movements, mainly at night when I'm sitting still. The feeling is something akin to a bunch of little butterflies rustling around inside of my abdomen. I've been poking at you to see if I can get you to poke back the way you did on Thursday, but I've not gotten anything out of you yet. It's such a neat feeling to finally have you move around and announce your presence in such a tangible way. I am looking forward towards more of same, and especially when it becomes strong enough to share with your father.

It's been a long weekend for me: Your brother turned 17 on Friday and between his birthday and his prom that was held Saturday, it was quite a stressful time--the whole weekend as well as the week leading up to it all. Stressful for him because of the anxiety associated with the two events. Stressful for me because of the changes in his demeanor and behavior caused from all the anxiety. But it's finally Sunday and the two events have passed (we had the family over to celebrate today) and so maybe now I'll be able to get some rest.

Not this coming Tuesday, but the next Tuesday I'll go back to have one last ultrasound. I'm really looking forward to that, particularly because at that point we should be able to tell beyond a doubt what sex you are. As I believe I mentioned before, the doctor was fairly certain last time that you were a girl, but I have held off on buying any clothes or doing any decorating until I could know for sure. Lizzie keeps calling you her brother, despite what the doctor said! I believe that she is feeling a slight twinge of jealousy at the thought of having to surrender her status as the baby girl. I am not worried though--I know that no matter which sex you turn out to be, when you two finally meet you're going to love her so her so much, and she you, that she'll forget all about how worried she was at the thought of your arrival.

Much love,
Mommy

Dear Blob,

We had another picture of you taken this past week. http://zeppmusi.vshost.com/Family/Baby/

Now that you're 12 weeks along you're really starting to look much more like a human baby than a blob. Might have to consider renaming the blog again, I guess!

The doc says that you appear to him to be a girl. He's not 100% certain, but all signs are pointing that way. I have to admit that I was sort of hoping you were a boy--mainly so that your sister wouldn't be more traumatized than she already is by all of this--but now that the idea of you being a girl has had a chance to sink in, I'm thrilled. Having had one of both already, I know the pros and cons of raising each sex and, truth be told, little girls are just easier. Plus they're fun to dress. :-)

So, I'm happy that you're going to be a girl--if that is, indeed, what you will be. Because there's still a chance that doc got it wrong, I'm not painting the nursery yet. We go back during the first part of May for one more scan and at that time he'll be able to tell for certain, so I'm holding off until then to buy, paint, or decorate anything.

Right now I think your name will be Lillian Grace.

I was going for Zoe to begin with, but there are just so many Zoe's, and Lillian, to me, is just so much more pretty and feminine.

Doc also says that everything looked really good as far as your overall health and well-being. The scan I had was to try to determine how high the risk is that you might have a birth defect such as Down's syndrome. I'll get the official lab reports back this week, but preliminary findings--that is, what he could see in the scan--indicate that all is well with you. I was glad to hear that because I do worry a little since I am an "older" mom and your father is much, much older than most typical new dads. But I think you're going to be fine.

Until next time,

Much love,

Mommy

Dear Blob,

Nothing really new to report. Just had a few minutes and decided to write.

I stayed home today (Tuesday, March 13) because one of your sister's pet rats were sick and had to go to the vet. Turned out she (the rat) had a rather large tumor in her abdomen so the decision was made to euthanize her. I decided that it would not be ideal to tell your sister this news over the phone, so I chose to work at home so that I could meet her when she got off the bus this afternoon.

I'm so full of pregnancy hormones that I couldn't even stay in the room while they euthanized it. I just can't deal with anything like that right now. I mean, I wasn't especially close to the rat or anything, but the thought of having to put it to death just made me so sad I could hardly bear it. (I also react this way to sad news stories and movie plots. It's a pregnancy thing. When I was pregnant with Elizabeth I had to stop reading the paper for awhile because it upset me too much.)

I think, though, that overall I'm starting to get out of the first trimester "ick" and into the wonderful second trimester. My energy level still isn't up to par, but the food thing seems to abating. And I do have more energy than I did even a few weeks ago. I still have to force myself to go exercise, but that was the case even before I became pregnant!

I have to admit that sometimes I have a lot of self-doubt about whether or not getting pregnant was the right thing to do. I mean, there's William and Elizabeth, almost ready to tackle life on their own, and here I am starting completely over with another one. Of course, I had a lot of doubt when I was pregnant with them, as well, though for different reasons. And in the end, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Strange, really. I remember vividly when I was pregnant with your sister thinking to myself: How on earth am I going to be able to handle another child? How can I possibly love another child as much as I love William? But then she was born and my heart just opened up and all those doubts just flew right out the window. So now when I wonder how on earth I'm going to handle having another child, and when I worry that I'm all out of love capacity, I know it's normal, and that it's really very silly because as soon as you're here I know it's going to be impossible for me to remember a time when you weren't with me. Of course, this knowledge still doesn't keep the doubt and worry at bay. . .

So oh well, your forgetful brother forgot his tennis shoes that he needs for tennis practice today so I must go deliver them to him here in a moment. Lucky thing for him that I am home today, I guess.

Until next time,

I remain,

Yours truly,

Mommy

Dear Blob,

We had our first visit at the Women's Birth & Wellness Center today. They examined me, asked me lots of questions, and listened to your heart beat. Everything was fine. We are both doing great. We go back in three weeks when I'll have to drink this awful orange gunk in order to test for gestational diabetes. (Because your brother and sister were large babies I have to undergo this test at 14 weeks.) I like the center a lot. They were all very friendly and even humored me my request to not know my weight.

So as far as the pregnancy stuff in general, I think that I may be getting over the nausea thing a bit, although I still have fairly strong likes and dislikes when it comes to food. Most of this is attributable to mood, though, and not so much feeling sick, as was the case a few weeks ago. Some of the things I like: chips, particularly cheetos, combos, and tortillas with salsa; bread; pasta; fruit, especially bananas and oranges; sweet potatoes; tomato soup; pizza; wheat thins; pickles; and all Mexican food. Some of the things I don't really like or do not sound appealing to me: steak; pork; cheese all by itself; salad; veal; chicken livers; shrimp; etc. Really anything "heavy" doesn't appeal to me. Dinner time has been challenging because while I'm generally ravenous during the day, I rarely feel hungry at night, making it difficult to plan dinner.

You are still making me extremely tired. Extremely. Dawg tired. I am hoping that this will soon pass. I'm not sure I can stand 7 more months of feeling this fatigued. It also isn't helping my exercise mission. Whenever I have time to take a walk or otherwise get some exercise, I just want to lie down and go to sleep. I have become one with the couch. I rarely stay awake much past 10 o'clock in the evening.

I'm also still sensitive to smells. I can't even wear my own perfume. Your dad cooked sausage the other weekend and I thought I would die. The lady who sits beside me at work likes some kind of hand lotion that turns my stomach. About a month ago I tried to carve up a pork roast after dinner and the smell made me feel so ill I had to go outside for a moment to clear my senses.

What other things are going on with me?

There's still the tender breast issue, but that's not going to change anytime soon. In fact, it'll probably get worse the bigger you--and they--get.

My waist has expanded a bit (though that could be due more to my new found desire for junk food than to your growth). Not enough for anyone to tell I'm pregnant, but enough that I don't even attempt to wear my "normal" slacks to work (except this one pair that is cut low and really comfy). Instead I wear these maternity pants I bought from Gap. They don't look like maternity pants at all as long as I leave my shirttail out. I can still wear my jeans, but only because they are made with that stretchy material.

Well I'm sleepy and tired of typing, so I think I'll call it a blog entry and take a quick nap before dinner (which is tomato soup and grilled cheese tonight).

Love you,
Mom

I renamed my blog tonight. I thought that Blob Blog was more appropriate (not to mention alliterative), as that is my pet name for the little fetus floating around someplace in the depths of my abdomen. The name is based on our first ultrasound image taken at six weeks. The doctor told us that it little white area in the sea of black was a baby, but to the untrained eye it appears as nothing more than a little shadowy blob.

My Blob. Our baby.

The last time I posted things were still up the air regarding Blob's well-being, but since that post it has been determined that 1) there isn't an ectopic pregnancy and 2) this is definitely (at least as of this moment in time) a healthy, viable pregnancy.

I am now 8.5 weeks pregnant. According to pregnancyguideonline.com the following is occurring:

• Elbows begin to form in the arms and fingers start to develop.
• The leg buds begin to show feet with tiny notches for the toes.
• The face continues to change as the ears, eyes and the tip of the nose appear.
• The intestines start to form in the umbilical cord.
• Teeth develop under the gums.

Exciting stuff!

And this is what that same site has to say about what is happening to me:

• Your uterus is the size of an orange now, and you may find your waistline expanding. If this is your first pregnancy, you're probably not showing. If it's not your first, you may have a "pooch" already. You will tend to show earlier in subsequent pregnancies since your muscles and ligaments aren't so tight.
• You may be feeling like a teenager if you find yourself with pimples and other skin problems. Don't fret ~ pregnancy causes an increase in oil secretions not to mention those rampant hormones! Your break-outs will go away either after the first trimester as your hormones level off or after delivery.

Man, are they right on the money with that! And add to it fatigue, nausea, and extraordinarily tender boobs. Fun, fun, fun.

I have not had any morning sickness, per se. But that merely means that while I have not actually vomited, I feel as though I could pretty much all day long. And already I feel like I've gained about 20 pounds because I eat all day long in a futile attempt to keep the nausea at bay. And since there are some foods that I can't stand to even think about without feeling ill, while there are others that I can't get enough of, I am not limiting my carb intake or otherwise limiting what I "can" and "can't" eat.* I'm going to be a sea cow, I just know it. But there's really nothing to do about it at this point, so I just try not to worry too much about it.

I'm sooooo tired. Unbelievably tired. I usually crash around 9 or 10 every night, which is completely unlike me. Unpregnant I'm quite the night owl. But pregnant me could sleep all night and all day and still be tired. No matter how early I go to sleep, I wake up tired. Exhausted. And I stay that way all day long. I just have no energy to do anything. I have to force myself to do basically anything that isn't sleep related.

I will be glad when this first trimester is over. I recall feeling pretty spunky during the second trimester with both William and Lizzie, so hopefully that's how this one will go, too. The third trimester is just miserable no matter what, there's no getting around it, and it'll be especially so for me since I'll be big and pregnant during the hottest months of the summer. All the more reason to look forward to, and appreciate, the second trimester.

This week, after interviewing a home birth midwife, consulting with a midwife who works under an OB practice in Cary, and touring the birthing center in Chapel Hill, I decided upon a prenatal caregive: the birthing center in Chapel Hill.

It was really a hard decision for me to make. And even though I've already made the appointment at the birthing center, I'm still doing a little internal waffling. I really wanted to try home birth. The whole idea of it really appeals to me: familiar surroundings, low stress, complete comfort. BUT no safety net. Well, other than an ambulance or a car trip to the hospital whereupon a complete stranger would take over my delivery. So I have settled on the birth center because it gives pretty much the best of both worlds. It has all the comforts of home birth (minus being in one's own home, of course) with the added benefit of hospital access, with the midwife in tow, if needed. Plus they do give some pain meds, if it comes to that (and that is, to be completely honest, a fairly big concern of mine since I tend to have enormous children).

I'm still considering finding the one midwife in this area that is certified to perform home births (all of the others are not certified--they're essentially doing it illegally), and who has a physician she works under who would be available in the event of an emergency or if hospital transport became necessary, and setting up a meeting with her. I certainly still have time. I have my prenatal vitamins and I am being seen by Dr. Deigan for ultrasounds and other testing, so I'm fine in that respect.

So maybe I will try to contact this woman and at least talk with her. Can't hurt, I suppose. And I can still keep the appointment in Chapel Hill.

Right now, though, it's nearly 9 p.m. and time to call it an evening.

I go back to Deigan on March 21 for some testing and a level-2 ultrasound. If I don't write before, I'll be sure to write then.

*Both lists change almost daily. Although chips and salsa remain steady as a favorite, and eggs stay at the top of my "oh-my-god-I-think-I'm-going-to-barf"list.