Wyatt's birthday

Oh hey!  Hey there, blog reader...

Wyatt Edison is 6 months old.  I haven't gotten a haircut or lost all the baby weight or written a blog post, so I figured I'd knock one out...

Blog post it is!

Really, I want to record my memories of the day Wyatt was born, before I totally forget.  To be totally honest, I've already let a lot go that was there, so I better get this out.

February 25, 2016 started out as I expected it to.  I had been off of work for a week, expecting to deliver Wyatt via C-Section on March 3, 2016.  But as usual with my pregnancies, my blood pressure was starting to go up and I was gaining water weight like a champion.  I was going to twice weekly monitoring appointments with the high risk OB and on Thursdays this was in the afternoon.

After a few trips to labor and delivery to check on the baby earlier in the month (and 2 days before he was born...) I had already started bringing my hospital bag with me.  I went to my appointment on the 25th fully thinking I would have the baby that day.  Adam went to work.  Because he's Adam, that's what he does on days we have babies, he goes to work.  But even before I left for the day, we had a plan in place.  I made sure to eat lunch, building in 8 hours in which to make sure the boys were picked up from daycare and looked after for the evening.

So off to the doctor's appointments I went.  I had a non stress test in labor and delivery and then waddled upstairs to have a bio-physical profile ultrasound and my usual check up done.  These events are all kind of hazy, I remember a bit, but I was tired and huge, having gained 25 pounds alone in the final 2 weeks.  My doctor (a man, worth noting in my opinion) was out on vacation, so I saw another doctor.  She took one look at me and decided that I needed to have the baby.  While my blood pressure wasn't terrible and I didn't have any immediate signs of pre-eclampsia, my history was enough to give her concern.  Plus, I honestly think she saw how miserable I was.  She let me know that Dr. Kessler was on call in labor and delivery all night and that she would be delivering the baby.

So I wandered back to labor and delivery and got in bed for the long wait.  It was a long wait for lots of reasons, mainly I was nervous.  Being nervous causes your blood sugar to tank, so I was not feeling so well.  Then the contractions started.  Yes, early labor started while I was waiting for my C-Section.  I'd never had any contractions before and holy crap...  they were for real.  Once my blood sugar started to really bottom out, we decided that I could have a ginger ale.  And another ginger ale.  It was a clear fluid, the doctor said.  It was fine, the doctor said...  It was fine until it wasn't fine and the doctor found out that we'd need to wait another hour.  By then, an emergency had come in, so we waited longer.  My surgery that was scheduled to happen at 8:15 finally started around 10:15 pm.

Adam had arrived and was keeping me calm,  I had my phone charger, a catheter and comfy pants on, so really I could have waited longer.  But all of the waiting was making me nervous.

Finally they wheeled me back to have the baby.  The nurses and doctor were great, but then the panic set in.  I'm not a fan of getting an epidural.  The big needle in the spine freaks me out and I knew it was coming and I'd had 2 before and yet, I was still freaked.  Then I found out that while I'd gotten an epidural for pain management (where they leave a tube in your spinal column) AND a spinal block (a shot of numbing juice) for James and Logan, I was only getting a spinal block.  The change was because I was in a different hospital.  So even though essentially, the same thing was happening, I still felt even more nervous.

After a spinal block, you rapidly lose feeling in your legs.  I had some pretty large legs at this point, so the staff scrambled to get me strapped down to the table.  This left me feeling like I was falling off the table, even though I wasn't.

Adam came in and sat with me.  The surgery started.  It feels like it took longer than with the other two, I'm not certain it was.  I started to sing a song to keep myself calm.  The anesthesiologist thought I had lost my mind.  And then the baby came out.  And then they pushed a shit ton of drugs to calm me, even though I wasn't that upset, at least in my mind.  Wyatt wasn't screaming much.  He wasn't silent like James, but he wasn't bellowing like Logan and that made me worry even though I was totally out of it at this point.  I barely remember seeing him, although there is a picture.  I was dozing in and out to the point of snoring a bit.  But the baby was breathing too quickly and his blood sugar was too low (shock there, I was chugging ginger ale to make it to surgery) so off to the NICU he went.

Finishing up with me took awhile, they had to tie my tubes and put me back together.  The doctor did a lovely job of tidying up my previous scar, but it took awhile.  I went to recovery and spent the time worried and embarrassed.  I felt a bit the way you might feel after a night of drinking.  You don't quite remember it, but you know you might have done something dumb and honestly, even writing this, I still feel the same way.

I was moving towards getting another pre-eclampsia diagnosis and knowing that would mean 24 hours of magnesium sulfate (aka the worst drug ever), the nurses ran another series of lab work on me.  This meant another 2 hours in the recovery room, so by 3 am I was finally moved to my own room.  Around 9 am that morning, Adam got to go see the baby in the NICU and found out that he'd be leaving soon.  It took another 3 hours and I finally got to hold my not so little, little guy.

He had very chubby cheeks and I worried that he might not be cute.  He snuggled right away and was very calm and content.  My heart could have exploded with happiness.

February 25, 2016, 10:57 pm, 10 lbs., 10 oz, 21 1/4 inches long.

One year ago

I use an app called "Timehop" and everyday it shows you pictures and social media posts from years past.  Sometimes its a happy reminder, a time I had with friends that I'd forgotten or a cute baby picture of one of the boys.  Or its a reminder that things that once upset me greatly weren't that bad, like this week when I relived the entire week we spent without power 5 years ago.  Sometimes they're a great reminder of exactly how much things have changed, like when I see a post from my now ex-stepfather.  Funny how someone can so quickly remove himself for your life and really its almost like he was never there.  In some cases that can be a good thing, I'm not sure how I would feel about it if it was someone who I really wanted in my life.
Today, there was a picture of Logan, standing in his crib.  One year ago, Logan was still the baby and we'd only just found out that we were expecting.  One year ago, I was a nervous wreck while James had his first few days of kindergarten.  And one year ago today I was pregnant, but still looking pretty thin and almost athletic.
All of those things were going on one year ago, but they don't seem that far off.  And the sweet picture I saw of little James' toes from 6 years ago doesn't seem that far off either.
Wyatt turned 6 months last week.  In the blink of an eye we're almost done with the newborn phase.  The phase that really brings to light the thought that "days seem long, but years seem short".
So we move along, each day bringing its new challenges, but I've learned, especially with 3 young children, that every phase is a challenge and the ones we are dealing with now are probably the easy ones.
I smile every morning when I open Timehop.  The boys crowd around and guess who's baby picture we're looking at.  They laugh when they see mom and dad without them.  Hard to believe one's parents had a life before they came along!

Sleep

Last night I slept 8 non consecutive hours, 4 in bed and 4 in the recliner. I'm calling this a win. 

Yesterday, at 36 weeks, baby measured an estimated 8 lbs, 6 oz. he could gain up to 2 more pounds in the next 3 weeks. We have a scheduled C-section on March 3, so my high risk OB seemed to thoroughly enjoy my horror, in a way that almost reminded me of my father. I'm not sure why the baby being so big seemed to terrify me, I guess it makes me think I haven't been doing a good job with my blood sugar. But it really hasn't been bad, so we'll blame genetics, Adam was mere ounces shy of 10 pounds at birth. 

I took a personal day today and am planning on resting most of the day, I am in great need. 

Awake

I've now been awake for over two hours. James had a nightmare and came in at 12:30 am and I've been up ever since. I spent the first thirty minutes in bed, but then migrated to the living room. 

I'm alternating between work stress, generalized anxiety, pregnancy insomnia, heartburn and the nagging cough of last week's virus. And so, I usher in my 33rd year. 

I also kind of want a snack. But I can't eat until I pee. Again. And the bathroom is upstairs and I'd hate to wake Adam. Again. Also eating may lead to more heartburn. But having something in my stomach may help the acid stay down. It's really a toss up. 

My hands are numb from my bloated wrists and tapping this into my phone has made me feel a bit calmer for the moment, although slightly more hungry.  Between an impending blizzard and sorting out the previously mentioned work stress, tomorrow is going to be a long day. I suppose that's part of the hilarious anxiety keeping me awake. I am anxious because I know how tired I will be. Oh Chelsea, 33 weeks pregnant and 33 years old. 

Note to self: accomplish what you can at the office. Go to library to pick up held books. Go to chiropractor to sort out back. Take the liberal leave already on the table and take a damn nap. 

Public Domain?

This point of pregnancy is one that I look forward to (well, the almost being done part) and the one that I honestly dread the most.  At this point, I am so big, there is no denying that there is a "baby on board".  People really seem to think at this point that you are public domain and they can say whatever comes to mind.

Examples:
"Are you sure its not twins?"
"Wow, you just get bigger everyday."
"I bet you're peeing a lot."
"Three boys?  So you'll try for a girl?  You really want a girl, right?"
"Didn't you just lose a bunch of weight?"

Look everyone, you aren't original.  There is nothing entertaining about this.  I am not even the kind to really care when someone rubs my tummy, because really, that tummy is out there.  This tummy is serious.  But I don't think you're funny.  And I do give sarcastic answers.

Things like,
"Thank you for pointing out how big I am, I needed the reminder today."
"I'm hoping one of them will be gay, that's close enough to a girl."

I know, I could be nicer, people are stupid and obnoxious and don't quite realize when they've said something that is probably offensive, if not insensitive.

Baby continues to grow well and my insulin need continues to go up.  At this point with James and Logan, I was still doing fairly well with my blood pressure, but the next few weeks will give more hints as to how quickly this pregnancy will be ending.  Either way, I'll be done by March 3rd!

It's almost time

"Adam....  Adam, I just realized I haven't written a single thing about being pregnant this time..."
"Well, I guess you better get on that."
"I took way more pictures."
Close enough, right?
I didn't set out to write about being pregnant for the third time.  I'd say that's a good thing, because I definitely accomplished that goal.  Until now.
2015 came and went.  James turned 5, started school, played soccer, drove his parents a little batty, but mostly was a good kid.  Logan was Logan.  A little loud and a little demanding.  Life with Logan seems to be a stream of antibiotics and trips to the ENT.  He got glasses, turned 3 and had revision tubes placed in his ears and his adenoids removed.  He was also mostly a good kid.
James is so ready to be a big brother again.  He loves his "job" even though most of the time Logan is really running the show.  Logan is so not ready to be a big brother.  He tells me nearly daily now that he doesn't want a baby and that he, in fact, is the baby.  Oddly enough, he loves babies, so maybe his tune will change.
Being on my third high risk pregnancy is a bit stressful.  Things seem more "normal" this time and I am very used to checking my blood sugar and blood pressure.  But its stressful in other ways.  When I told James I had a doctor's appointment this morning, he asked if I'd be gone for 5 days.  I told him that its just a check up and that the doctor would just measure my belly and listen to the baby's heartbeat.  In the back of my mind, I was thinking "I hope..." I promised to try to give him as much notice as I possible could before I had to be in the hospital.  He was unhappy when mom was in the hospital with Logan, this time I know it will be worse.
Preparing for a third baby is pretty hilarious, I'm almost 31 weeks and we finally broke down and bought some baby things.  We still have no baby clothes, as we're waiting for a hand-me-down delivery.  We still don't have a solid feeding plan, we're playing it by ear to see if the little guy wants to nurse.  I have no meals prepped (okay, I never prepped meals before the other two either...) and no real plans for who is watching the kids while I'm in the hospital.  We'll figure it out eventually, there's probably only 6 more weeks of this madness.
Good things about pregnancy this time around:
1.  Adam and I understand that I'm crazy, hungry, hormonal and angry.  Not sure who I'm angry at, but most of the time, someone.
2.  I know that the time period of being exhausted is quite short.  Caring for an infant is actually super easy when compared to parenting a child, even if they scream a lot and you don't sleep for a year.
3.  Its almost over.  That's the best part.  I fooled myself into thinking doing this again would be easy.  Its not.  I will not have these foolish notions again.  I will tie my tubes and never again think of having babies.  Because four?  Well that is just nuts, right?  Right.