Well everyone here is the story, before I am too senile from sleep deprivation to remember it:)
40+ 2 Thursday, September 16th: 8pm: I start feeling some funny goings on down below. Some "tightening" if you will. I start timing. We're at every 10 minutes. I continue timing contractions all night, because I am getting all crazy with overdue excitement and I have nothing else to do... Like I don't know, SLEEP. Anyways, I time all night while my husband sleeps peacufully like a cherub on a bed of clouds with a lullaby of harps. In his defense, I didn't tell him about the contractions. I didn't want him to get excited if it wasn't the real deal.
40+3 Friday, September 17th: By 6am the contractions were coming every 3-5 minutes and were only getting uncomfortable. I called Dr. POC and she told me to go into L&D. 8am we checked in and were at 3cm. We walked the halls and used an exercise ball to get to 4cm around noon. At 4cm I could still breath and focus through the contractions. This shit is a cinch. I was all swimming it up in the whirlpool. Life is grand.
4pm Dr. POC, that whore crack head monkey loving biatch broke my water. Let's just say things escalated rather quickly. And by "rather quickly" I mean, immediately. Holy hot damn. The contractions went from manageable, breath, focus to primal shrieks of terror focus on not dying. I tried nubane for the pain. I have to say ladies, don't waste your time with this crap. Nubane is like being drunk while being run over by a train. One question: Why? Exactly. An hour later, around 5pm and 7cm, I went for the heavy hitter and got the epidural. Sweet mother Mary it was the best thing on earth. I feel that the creator of the epidural should be nominated for a nobel peace price. I'm just saying. Kick back, put your feet up and just watch the contraction monitor soar. Suckah! From that point on we hung out in or room with 10-15 friends and family. It was freaking awesome and it made the time go by so fast.
11pm- 10cm Oh yeah, we're having a baby.
40+4 Saturday, September 18th:
2:05am Tyler Ryan was born at 6lbs 14ounces screaming his gorgeous little fool head off. I couldn't believe how small he was for 40+4. And only a minor tear. Road rash, if you will.
I am so in love with this kid, I'm like vomiting love. He is the absolute joy of my life.
During my preggo pics photo session there were a couple of bizarre encounters, which clearly point out what a nice area of town I live in.
We were on the last few pictures when these 2 "gentleman" were walking by and threw out a "Hey, Cutie!" Really? With my husband standing right there? If your dating strategy is to hit on knocked up married women, I think you need to rethink your approach. I'm just sayin'.
Not even 30 seconds after that. This drunk old hobo walked up to up and said in his slurry, hard to decipher, speech: "I juuusssttt want to telllll youuuu, what you're doing here is juuuusssst beeeeaaauuuutiiiful." And then he dropped dead of alcohol poisening. Thanks for the compliment of my life though. He was sweet, even if he wreaked of cheap vodka (which I thought about licking out of the inside of his mouth. It's been 8 months peeps, I could use a cocktail. Don't judge me. I thought better of it though when I saw syringes falling out of his pockets. I'm guessing those aren't for PIO injections? Just sayin.)
And yesterday, I left work at 2:30 to put my feet up. (Dr. POC finally reduced me to 6 hours a day, because of swelling/pitting. Google that shit. I dare you. It will make you fear the reaper) At 7:30 at a ripe 9 months pregnant, I decide to take my sweet girl, Roxy, for a little walk around the block since the weather had cooled down. I was on the corner of a busier street when I noticed a little 5 pound yapper come running like a bat out of hell from a couple of houses down. The owners apparently didn’t notice that it had gotten away.
Picture this: 9 months pregnant woman, 65 lb boxer, and 5 lb yappy (who is trying to kill Roxy) in the middle of said busy street. Cars coming from both directions, honking. Chaos ensues trying to wrangle my dog and keep yappy from getting run over.
I get everyone out of the street when the owner (2 houses down) finally notices that his dog took off. He calls him, dog runs home. I shout at him that it might be a good idea to put his dog on a leash. He does not come over to see if 9 months pregnant woman that just saved his dogs life is okay.
I walk across the street to catch my breath and continue on the way home when woman owner of the dog decides it would be a good idea to cross the street to tell me that I “don’t have to be so rude about it.” To which I inform her that I just saved her dog, myself, and my dog from being run over. She tells me to just let him get run over next time, and “kindness goes a long way.”
Right, because I wouldn’t know anything about kindness because I just saved your dog from being road kill. How about, “I’m so sorry, thank you so much for saving my dog, are you okay?”
And then I punched her in the face. And threw her into oncoming traffic. Your welcome lady.
I wish those were all the crazy stories I had for you. But no, there're more.
At work this week we got new computers, so our IT department was in house to help with questions, etc.
Me: (Minding own business, walking to my office)
Creepy IT guy: Excuse me, ma'am?
Me: Mm hm?
Creep: Um, you wouldn't happen to be pregnant would you?
Me: Actually, I was just on my way to the pharmacy to get the morning after pill.
Creep: Well, I had this button made up and I'd like you to have it.
Peeps, the button says on it, FREE HUG.
Really? I think I just got sexually harrassed.
Anyways, I have been officially named the Queen of the Crazies. I take much pride in the honor that has been bestowed upon me. I hope to represent the Crazies with as much flair as possible.
In other news, the bug's room is coming together. Still no name though.
Remind me next time to tell you about the birthing video we watched. I need another therapy session before I'll be ready to talk about it.
33w2d 2 posts in 1 day. What the hell!? I have so much to fill all my internet bff's on that I just can't cram it all into 1 post. Because I suck at blogging. As well as life. So there you have it.
My baby shower was last weekend. Squee! I have to admit, I was adamant about not having one (for so many twisted reasons related to IF and loss). But so many of our family and friends wanted to have one that I finally decided it would be okay. As long as it was small. And not filled with the crazy.
Turns out I was a hot mess of emotions at the turnout of people that came. People that care about us, know how much we've struggled, and are genuinely happy to see us finally turn the page. Ah, I'm getting all choked up all over again!
It was great, it was fun, there was cake. What else can I say? So so so many baby clothes that I actually wake in the middle of the night with an anxiety attack over how many clothes of each size we'll need, and if I should exchange any. Ridiculous. Yes, I know this. Pictures to follow, as soon as I can get my hands on some.
The day before the baby shower was another story all together. I had a half day at work and went home to relax for the rest of the day. Anyways, I was getting my relax on, when there was a gush of fluid. My husband was at the lake for the weekend (hour and a half away). So I call Dr. POC, and got over to her office in a mad dash. 3 cervical tests later (on an already irritable cervix, as she calls it), and it was officially confirmed that yes, I did indeed pee my pants. Lovely.
Fortunately, I did not pee my pants during a fun photo session my friend Joanne, at Minor Moments Photography, did a couple of weeks ago.
You know the old term, misery loves company. It's terrible, but I get so excited when I meet another infertile.
It's happened twice at work in the last few weeks. The first was with a coworker I used to work with in another department 5 years ago. She saw that I was KU and mentioned that she had just found out that she was KU as well. I don't know how it came up but she said that they'd been trying for a few years and had to use Clomid to get their BFP. I was all like, Shut the front door! We shared war stories about losses, etc. I left our conversation feeling like I wasn't alone, I'd met another one in the Sisterhood. Warm and fuzzy, bunnies and puppies.
The second exchange was most unexpected. It was with an external partner of my company that I work with on a regular basis. He's called a couple times in the last few months to see how things are going with the bug. In this conversation he was telling me about his 3 year old daughter, his wife's pregnancy, labor, delivery, etc. I made the critical error of asking if they were going to have more children.
His response: It's in God's hands. My response: OH MY GOD! You're an INFERTILE?! I could tell he clearly wasn't comfortable talking about the specifics of their situation, but suffice it to say that a kinship was formed.
Some win the battle sooner than others. But we've all cried the same tears and felt the same pain.
It's funny, misery does love company. It's comforting know that brothers and sisters have walked this path before us, and there will be many more after us.
I realize that the amount of my suckage has reached infinite levels. I could say something like: I've been in meetings with the executives at NASA for weeks now and just haven't had a spare second to write a measly post.
Barack called and invited me to spend a few weeks at Camp David with him and the fam. And, well, it's been so long since we've caught up, I couldn't resist.
But the truth is that anything that requires me to put down my spoon of Edy's Slow Churned Double Fudge Brownie for one second is clearly outside of my realm of consideration.
This human growing experiment has it's moments. And by "moments" I mean, back pain, foot pain, swelling, pure sexiness, really. And I don't want to come across all woe is me on you, because I fully appreciate where I am. But, I will say, that I didn't come into this with any expectations, because I never expected to get knocked up. Then when I did, I didn't expect to STAY knocked up. Especially for this long.
Anyways, here I am.
Picking up from the last post, I had a visit with Dr. POC and she did an FFN (fetal fibronectin), to tell if the spotting might be a sign of pre term labor. It came back negative, and all has been well since then. *knock on wood* *wish on star* *praise to ali babba*
In other news, my husband insists that I am a nesting fool. I, however, contend that I am simply making space for another human being that will be taking up residence in our abode relatively soon, as this babymaker motel for 2 is quickly running out of vacancy.
Simply put, our house is a disaster and we aren't even close to being prepared for this bug's arrival. In any way. Shape or form.
We have not selected a daycare. And we have not made a final decision on what my work situation will look like (PT vs. FT vs. living on the streets).
Also, we have not made any progress on selecting a name. I know, shock and awe.
But we have been enjoying every spare second at our cottage on a lake about an hour from here (because it's been 90 mother flipping degrees up here for the last 2 weeks!!) and blindly hoping that the rest will fall into place. It will, won't it?
AND as a side note (which deserves a post of it's own) I FINALLY put away my fertility meds, and the cadillac. I waited until 31 weeks because I was afraid of being jinxed? Yes. *knock on wood* *wish on star* *praise to ali babba*
Next appointment with Dr. POC is on Friday. I'm desperately trying to think of a good story to get her to put me out of work.
How about, my work gives me seizures? I pass out foaming at the mouth unless working on a situation directly related to babies, or baby making?