Tomorrow

Tomorrow morning at 7:00am I will be at the hospital, ready to have a baby. After much discussion and deliberation, we decided to induce earlier than originally planned. And so tomorrow it is. I can't tell you how unreal it is, to have felt so incredible ready to have this baby for the last three or four weeks, but now that I actually know that it's happening tomorrow, I barely feel ready at all.

So many questions run through my mind. What is it going to be like, to be induced? Will it be much more uncomfortable from the start? Will I regret this decision? How long will labor take? Will I recognize my daughter the way I remember sort of recognizing Milo? What will she look like? Dark hair? Red hair? No hair? Will I love her right away, or will it take some time? How could my love for her possibly compare to my love for Milo? Is it even possible to love that much again?

It's less than 12 hours away, the beginning of the end of pregnancy. Probably my last pregnancy. I feel relief and sadness all at once. I had a sonogram this morning to check my fluid levels. Since we'd already decided to induce, it wasn't really necessary, but I'm so glad I kept the appointment. Even though she's too squished for me to see her face, I loved getting one last glimpse of her beating heart, her spine, and her cramped little body. I do feel connected in some way to this baby, and I hope that translates into love when I first hold her in my arms. I hear parents of two or more kids say that they, too, worried about loving the second child as much as they love the first, but that they just do. Can't explain it, you just do.

Tomorrow we'll become a family of four. Tomorrow Milo will meet his little sister. Tomorrow will be a day forever etched in my mind. And tomorrow, I just might start to believe that this is all really happening.

Getting close?

Today I am two days away from my due date. A certain someone who shares my DNA was born two days before his due date. So clearly today ought to be the day. But so far, no dice.

Things have been rough in the Langford household lately. Milo spent the better part of the week sick. Throwing up and feeling extra sleepy (except at night, obviously). Good for cuddles, not good for our stress levels. I've had a cold, and so has Andrew, but we have avoided the stomach bug, it seems. I've spent more than one evening in absolute misery, crying while every single part of my body ached. Convinced that I could not be pregnant another night.

Every night I'm up multiple times for bathroom trips and leg cramps. Oh my god, the leg cramps. After the months of nausea and vomiting, they're my least favorite part of pregnancy. "Get your sleep now," random people say. Shut it, I think. I'd much rather be awake nursing a baby several times a night than up peeing and whimpering in leg-cramp pain several times a night.

Today is my last day at work. That's for the best, as I am completely unable to focus for more than five minutes at a time. I cannot tell you how many times I've had the same conversation at work. It goes something like this:
Other person: You still here?
Me: Yep, still here.
Other person: When are you due?
Me: Sunday.
Other person: Oh wow, so soon!
Me: I know, any day now!

It's really happening, though. Hard as it is to believe, I will go into labor at some point and end up with a baby. A baby girl, my daughter. I will soon be a mommy of two, and my son will be a big brother—the oldest child rather than the only child. I'll see my husband turn into a father all over again, and I'll fall in love with him all over again.

Soon. Very soon.

More of the Same

Still 3cm. Still 50 percent effaced. Heart rate down a bit to 120. Does that mean Sissy's making her appearance soon?

I don't want him to grow up.

I just laid Milo down in his crib for the very last time. Then I cried big fat tears. Tomorrow night Milo is moving to his big-kid bed, a twin mattress on the floor. And I am not liking seeing my baby grow up. Right this second, picturing him laying there in his crib tonight, I'm tearing up again. He's getting so big, but he's still so small. He's still my baby, even though I keep telling him what a big boy he is. I wonder if seeing him tomorrow night in his enormous bed will make me believe it.

First Glimpse of Sissy

We had a 3D sonogram last Saturday. My takeaway: Sissy's eyes and nose look like Milo, but her mouth belongs only to her. We had trouble getting really clear images because 1) she had her arm blocking her face for much of the session and 2) her face was pressed up against the wall of the uterus, making it difficult for the machine to do its thing. A few of the best pics below, with a couple of Milo for comparison.

All curled up.

 

Look at her big lips!

Looks like she has chubby cheeks already, at only two-ish pounds.

Remember a couple of years ago, when Milo flipped us off in utero? Sissy is following right in her brother's footsteps.

Ahh, yes, here it is: Milo giving us the finger, with a smirk and everything.

My sweet boy.

Mama called the doctor...

I had an OB check-up this morning. All is well with Sissy. She had the hiccups when I listened to her heartbeat. After the appointment, I scheduled my next nine appointments. In other words, I am now scheduled all the way to my due date. For some reason, this makes it all seem like it's happening very quickly. And I am not ready.

There are a million things on my to-do list and I don't know when I'm going to do any of them. I spend every weekend just trying to see Milo and do fun things with him and Andrew. There is no time to design a nursery or organize the onesies and burp cloths. We're only three and a half months away from actually having a baby and I'm pretty sure I need at least six months to get ready. Not good math.

The Gender Reveal Party

Yesterday we hosted a gender reveal party for our friends and family to share the news of Future Baby's sex. The party was a great success. Gorgeous weather meant our deck (and new patio furniture) were open for business. The food was a hit, the kids loved playing with Milo's toys, and our reveal moment had the perfect amount of suspense. My video hangout with long-distance friends and family even went smoothly. Overall, I'd say a good time was had by all.
To reveal the sex, we went old school with a science-project volcano. Except our volcano came out of a wine bottle. In addition to the baking soda, we added Koolaid mix in order to get the color (mixed ahead of time, of course, so as not to give away the surprise). Everyone gathered around, and I poured in the vinegar. It took a few seconds to react, then—an eruption of pink!
Everyone cheered. It was such an exciting perfect moment. We're having a girl! Amazing. And now that the party's over, it really is sinking in. It's gonna happen—Milo is going to have a baby sister and I'm going to have a daughter. Wow. Can't wait to meet you, Future Baby Girl!

The Post In Which the Gender Is Revealed!

It's a girl!

Relief

I was looking through some old blog post drafts that never got published for some reason or another and came across this. Written only a couple months ago and with our sonogram taking place in just a few hours, it seems particularly apropos to post it now.

Today (July 18) was my second OB appointment. The one where we were supposed to get to hear the heartbeat. As it turned out, I never did hear the heartbeat. But I got something much better.

My doctor told us that at this stage in pregnancy, she can only find the heartbeat about half the time with the doppler. I was pretty certain we'd have no trouble hearing it, since I'm 11 weeks, and I was only 10 weeks when we heard Milo's heartbeat for the first time. But I was still a little nervous going in to the appointment, because this was sort of the make it or break it point, at least in my mind. So when my doctor couldn't find it, I of course was a little worried. But she was very reassuring, and even said she wasn't going to try that hard to find it; we'd just go and get an ultrasound instead.

I'll admit, I loved the idea of getting an early ultrasound. Especially if my doctor was confident that things were fine. So Andrew and I headed out to the waiting room, and even though we were being squeezed in between other appointments, we got called back in about two minutes to go get our ultrasound. That was perfect, because I didn't have time to get myself good and worked up and panicky.

On the table, gel on the belly, lights dimmed, and voila. Our baby on the screen. Waving at us, heart beating like mad. Awesome. Cutest 1.5-inch long baby I've ever seen.

The Weight Is Over (see what I did there?)

I'm officially back to my pre-pregnancy weight. It only took seven and a half months to get there, but here I am. And yet, though it is so expected, I'm still surprised by how different my body is.

My belly is distinctly rounder and squishier than it used to be. No amount of sucking in really makes it go away. My boobs are way bigger than they were pre-baby, thankyouverymuch, breastfeeding. But because of the exercise (thank you, personal training), my buns and thighs and arms are more toned than they ever have been. I'm no Jillian Michaels, but it's a start.

Of course, I'm not yet at the finish line, weight loss-wise. I gained a lot of weight when we were trying to conceive, because I was frustrated and upset, and I'm an emotionally eater. So I still have about 15 pounds to go before I get to where I'd like to be. Shouldn't be too hard, right? It's not like we're heading into that time of year when there are cookies and pies and pastries at Every. Single. Turn.

Oh. Wait. Damn . . .

Noteworthy Thursday #30

Dear Baby,

Oh, I so want to call you by your name. It fits you so well, I think. Even when it's just your daddy and me talking, I still only call you by your name about half the time. I'm afraid that if I get too used to it, I'll let it slip when I'm talking to someone else. And we want it to be a surprise. Since everyone already knows you are a boy (and thanks for showing us your bits, by the way. Aunt Courtney had some trouble with your future cousin and still isn't sure whether she can expect a daughter or another son), we want to have something fun to anticipate. As if the date you show up isn't enough.

Which brings me to my main point. When do you plan to arrive, Baby? While I'm sure my womb is nice and cozy, winter is pretty much over, and the world is a lovely place. Daddy even told me that the tulips I planted last year are coming up. You don't want to miss seeing the tulips, do you? I'm pretty sure the deer will eat them in a matter of days, so better hurry! But you're too smart for that, aren't you? It isn't really about the tulips at all. I just want to meet you. (Okay, okay, I am also ready to not be pregnant anymore.)

A few days ago I had a little breakdown. "How am I going to do this?" I cried. "I have no idea how to take care of a baby." As the tears ran down my cheeks, Daddy said all the right things. He told me that of course I could do this, that I would be a great mom. He said that we have everything ready, and that we'll figure it out. And of course we will. I still feel totally and completely unprepared, but somehow that doesn't matter. I don't think I ever will be ready. You might show up tonight or tomorrow or the next day. Whenever you get here, I'll hold you and kiss you and keep you warm. It'll be like my arms were made for holding you. And nothing could possibly be any better than that.

"Ugh, Mom," I can already hear future you saying. I know, I know. I was about to get a little mushy there. Even now, as I sit here at my desk at work, I feel a little choked up just thinking about you. My whole life is about to change because of you, one tiny little seven-ish pound person. And right now, I still have no idea just how much.

I'd like to go ahead and find out, though, so if you wouldn't mind hurrying it up a bit, that would be great. Thanks.

See you soon.

Love,
Momma

Counting Down the Days

Let me give you some perspective. There are 27 days left until my due date. My sister had her baby 20 days before her due date.

I hardly even know what to say about it all. I’m so ready to meet this little guy. I think I’ll just recognize him, you know? And it will be so amazing to snuggle him close and hold his tiny little fingers. But there’s just no way to prepare for this.

I’m not a fan of surprises, really. I’d rather know what to expect and act accordingly. Going into labor will be the biggest surprise. It could be next week or it could be five weeks from now. My best friend described waiting for labor as being like the night before Christmas, except you don’t know when Christmas is.

In some ways, I feel fairly prepared for labor. I’ve read tons of books, I’ve taken the classes. I know myself and what I expect for myself. I’m prepared to be as flexible as I can be. But in other ways, I feel completely unprepared and a little freaked out. Emily just had her son a couple of days ago, after nearly 42 hours of labor. She had contractions for almost two entire days. How is that even possible? I am so amazed by her. I don’t know how I would handle something like that. Fortunately for me, they say that I could make a good guess on what my labor would be like based on my mom and sister. And for her first child, my mom was in labor nine hours, and for her second labor (me), only three and a half hours. My sister’s labor was only three or four hours. And they were all before the due dates. But I could also turn out to be nothing like them.

Andrew is clearly so excited to be a daddy. I love seeing him get excited about this, knowing that he’s anticipating it all just as much as I am. At the same time, he has also started to go a little bit into nesting mode and a little bit into freak-out mode, all at once. And I have suddenly become the calm(er) one. Andrew thinks we don’t have the stuff we will need, that we’re not prepared. I say, eh. That’s what our parents are for—they’ll help us out and make those Target runs if we find we don’t have x, y, or z.

Plus, I feel pretty prepared. The baby's bedding and layette and whatnot is all washed. (I believe that will be the only time I’ll ever use the word "layette" in my life.) The nursery is ready (and it’s super cute—see pics below). My hospital bag is half packed. We even bought a video camera. Give me one more weekend to gather stuff and I’ll be all ready to go.

And then inevitably, it’ll be four more weeks for this baby to decide he’s ready to come out and meet us. Sigh. (Have I mentioned how I’m over being pregnant?)

Done?

Maternity Photos!

Here's a belly photo taken by yours truly about two minutes ago, while sitting at my desk at work. Now go to the fabulous Erika's blog to see much better belly photos.

Thanks, Erika! They look great!

Erika's Blog!

That Wasn't So Bad

Andrew and I took a class last night called "Newborn Care Essentials." I was a little nervous going into it. For the last several days, I seem to cry at the drop of a hat. Sometimes I'm frustrated, sometimes I'm tired, sometimes that one girl's story on American Idol was just too tragic. So I was worried that something in the class would seem overwhelming to me, and I would have some sort of breakdown right there in front of fifteen infant-sized dolls.

But it wasn't bad at all. In fact, I don't think I really learned much of anything. And not even because I was too busy staring at the basket full of Rice Krispie treats (our mid-class break snack) to pay attention. It was because I already knew this stuff. Apparently my very small amount of baby experience and all those books and blogs I've been reading have taught me more than I thought. I almost feel ready to take on this whole caring-for-a-baby thing. Almost. Of course there will be much to learn and figure out. But it doesn't seem so scary.

Now, my suddenly swollen feet and ankles are another story. Those are scary. I now have two pairs of shoes that fit comfortably—my tennis shoes and my snow boots. So that's fantastic. Sometime this weekend I'm going shoe shopping, looking for one versatile, comfortable pair that I can wear every day for the next six to eight weeks. Preferably a pair that just slips on and doesn't require me to tie any laces or use my hands in any way. Also, if the shoes could manage to not be terrible ugly, that would be a bonus.

I’ve Been Showered . . . with Love (awwww)

On Saturday, my mom and my sister threw a baby shower for me. The whole thing was pretty exciting. I really liked sitting there, surrounded by all these people who really care about me and my little cupcake, opening fantastic gifts and eating delicious snacks.

My hostesses thought of every detail, making it all very special. There was a clothesline filled with adorable tiny outfits. The pack-n-play sat in as the gift receptacle. There were children’s books with coordinating stuffed animals next to them. There were three different types of cupcakes. I loved it all.

Now Baby will be ready to support the Tigers.
(If his parents knew when the games were. Ever.)

I only wish I had gotten more pictures of the guests—they’re some of my very favorite people. (Okay, I also wish I didn’t have such an enormous double chin in most of the pictures. But nothing to be done about that.)

And in case you were wondering how the belly's doing these days, here's me at 32 weeks. I can't really believe I have less than two months to go. Wow.

Notice that we have a crib now! And a mattress! Nice, eh?

Sleep is for the Weak

I've still got eight weeks (or only eight weeks, depending how you like to think of it) until my due date--but I may reach my breaking point way before that. Every night I spend an hour or two just . . . awake. Usually with a three-and-a-half-pound person thrashing around, getting all up in my internal organs' business. And this lack of restful sleep is killing me. I've never been one to deal well with not-enough sleep. It makes me sort of crazy.

For instance: Yesterday I cried in Babies R Us (again) because choosing a coming home baby outfit was haaaaaard. Then I cried when I got home, looking at all the baby stuff I now have, unsure what to do with everything and feeling terribly unready for this. This morning I cried because I was so hungry, and we were out of milk so I couldn't eat cereal. And clearly THAT is a good reason to shed a few tears.

And believe me, I know that the lack of sleep is only going to get worse when I am up every couple of hours for feedings and all that. Please don't remind me, or I will be forced to punch you in the face.

And if you tell me that I should enjoy the sleep while I still can, I also may have to punch you in the face (see paragraph 1). Just because the baby is still in the womb does not mean he is not already keeping me awake.

But! I have happier things to write about, too. My mom and sister threw me a lovely baby shower this weekend, hence all the stuff I now have. I had such a good time, and I will tell you all about it soon.

Updates, the Baby Edition

As promised, I give you baby updates.

We had our 3D sonogram on New Year's Eve. It was amazing. I swear he looks like me. And check out his little smirk and the way he is totally flipping us off in this picture. If this is any indication of his personality, the next 20 years will be quite trying.

I feel sort of huge. My back hurts sometimes, I involuntarily grunt all the time--when picking things up, when trying to tie my shoes, when rolling over in bed. It's going to be a long two-and-a-half months until he arrives. I recently heard someone say that all you can do in the 3rd trimester is get through it, and that's how I'm feeling about this. I'm just going to get through it.

My coat barely fits. I can button the top button, but then it just sort of flaps open. And it is way too freaking cold for this. Next baby should really think about being born in the summer or fall.

For awhile, the baby was spine to spine with me, which made my back hurt quite a bit, with these occasional shooting pains in one tiny area. And until he shifted around, I began to waddle. Every woman thinks it won't happen to her, but what can I say? Waddling was the only way to keep my back from spasming as I walked around. I am mad sexy, no?

All this thrashing and moving and kicking and poking is kind of getting old. And painful. Yes, it is a nice reassurance to know that he's still alive and well in there, but fewer jabs to the ribs would be nice.

In spite of the rib-kicking, the heartburn (have I mentioned the heartburn? Terrible.), the difficulty sleeping, the back pain, the waddling, and the feelings of hugeness, I am so in love with this baby boy. We read to him and sing to him, and I cannot wait to hold him in my arms. We've pretty much decided on his name (but it's a secret) and he just feels so real. It's still sort of surreal to think that he'll really be here in such a short amount of time, but he's got such a firm hold on our hearts already that I can't imagine my life without him.

And now I am going to go listen to Adele's "Make You Feel My Love" and "My First Child" by Nil Lara and maybe cry some more.

Noteworthy Thursday #29

Dear Baby,

Well, you've been in there 26 weeks now (Okay, okay, fine. The first two weeks don't really count. Pregnancy math is hard. As is all math, if you ask me. But don't ask me. Ask your father. Or your Uncle Jeff.). I just wanted to remind you to stay put for a few more months. I just read about a somewhat infamous reality show star (for lack of a better term) who developed preeclampsia and had to deliver her 19th child (I know! That's a lot of kids!) at only 25 weeks. 25 weeks! That's way too early! That baby only weighed 1 pound, 6 ounces. Baby, you probably are already bigger than that, and even though you are already making my back hurt sometimes, I want you to grow and grow and grow, until you're nice and chubby and squishy and chompable. Then you can come out into the world and I will give you kisses.

Do we have a deal? I will keep you warm and safe (and I will stay away from the extra-spicy foods), and you will keep growing until you are nice and ripe. Okay, it's settled. See you in March!

Love,
Momma

Momma at 26 Weeks

The One In Which We Register

Have I ever told you about the time Andrew and I registered for wedding gifts? No? Well. I’m not really going to tell you now, except to say that we hated every single stinking minute of it. Registering sounded so fun, you get the little scanner and you go around and pick out things you would like. Easy, right? Oh, so terribly wrong.

We couldn’t make up our minds about anything, and the pressure to make the right decisions, quickly, was very overwhelming. Take towels. Which towels were the best? Are those soft enough? Do they come in the colors we want? And what exactly are those colors? How am I supposed to pick out what color towels we will someday want in our future guest bath? All for a few pieces of terrycloth.

In the end, I think we went back to the store no fewer than three times to finally register for everything we “needed.”

Last Saturday we made the trek out to register for baby stuff. Since we knew how much we hated registering for wedding gifts, we came prepared. We had three separate lists of recommended baby gear from trusted sources, and a plan to not over think anything. We’d get in, scan the things we needed, scan a few super cute things, and get out.

The trip started out well enough. We got the forms filled out and received our scanner. Checking our lists, we began moving through the store. Our first stop was “infant care” (which is sort of a vague name for a section in a baby store, don’t you think?) and we quickly found ourselves faced with a bottle dilemma. I’m planning to breastfeed, so we don’t think we will need that many bottles. (All you parents out there may be snorting with laughter at my naivety. All I ask is that you let me down gently.) One of our list writers recommended two or three brands that she liked, and since we had no clue (and have read that our baby may reject any particular bottle just for kicks) we decided to go with what was recommended. But the list failed to mention that for each of the brands, there were numerous options. Too many options.

But after several minutes staring blankly at the packaging and furiously scanning our lists, hoping to see something we missed, something to clue us in as to what we should be looking for, we sort of gave up. We scanned two or three bottles (BPA-free, of course) and moved on to pacifiers. From then on, we were a little more carefree about the whole thing, figuring that we could always adjust our choices online and that since we couldn’t predict what Baby Langford would like anyway, we might as well not stress over it.

Almost two hours later, we found ourselves on the other side of the store, faced with the task of selecting one of those play mats, with the arches and the dangly toys and the bright colors. There really weren’t that many to choose from. Andrew was fond of one in particular, but I disliked it for some reason. I wasn’t really excited about any of them. Did I want my baby to look at an underwater scene or a jungle scene? Should we get one that played music? Was the smaller round one okay, or were the colors a bit too primary? It was ridiculous.

My head was spinning. The aisle was crowded, and Andrew couldn’t fit the cart through (BTW, we had a cart just to hold my water bottle and the three lists, not for actual purchasing of product. In case you were wondering.), so he went to the next row over to check out some toys. I looked up to see that he was not intently studying that play mats like I was and got frustrated. Why was he not helping me figure out this great mystery of the universe? He said he couldn’t fit the cart through and was waiting for it to get less crowded. But I need your help nowwww, I whined. And so he came over, and we stood in silence for a moment, again looking at the display.

And then the tears started rolling down my face. “Let’s go,” I said. “I need to get out of here.” So Andrew turned in the scanner while I composed myself and go we did.

I don’t really think the tears had anything to do with the floor mats. It was all just such a huge process. And when I tried to visualize one of those mats in our home I just didn’t know where it would go. Suddenly all those things we had been scanning became real products that we would soon own and soon have to find a place to put in our house. How are we really going to have a baby? How are we going to figure out how to do it? We couldn’t even figure out which stupid play mat was best, or what all those differently sized waterproof pads were really intended for, or why babies need specific baby washcloths. And it was all just a little overwhelming.

Or maybe I can blame this one on the hormones?

Noteworthy Thursday #28

Dear Baby,

Hi. I’m your mom. Since we’ve been spending so much time together, I thought I ought to introduce myself. I suppose some might say that we’ve already been getting to know each other for the last few months, but I still can’t wait to meet you.

I’m fairly certain that you’re going to be amazing. But don’t just take it from me. Your daddy thinks so, too. You know him? That guy that talks and sings to you sometimes? He loves you a lot. A whole lot. I know your daddy pretty well, so trust me when I tell you that he is so happy and excited to get to know you. It makes me happy to see him so happy. But back to my point—you’re going to be amazing. You’re already pretty amazing.

I don’t even know your name, but I already know that I love you. And I know when you’re hungry. And I know when you’re sleepy. And I know that you have an incredible future in front of you. Maybe you’ll play the guitar like Daddy. Maybe you’ll love to write stories like me. You might be an excellent dancer or you might love to sing. Maybe you’ll be a scientist or an actor or a poet or a zookeeper. Maybe you’ll be the kid who eats paste. The possibilities are endless. I love imagining who you will become.

I can hardly believe that it is only a few more months until I will hold you in my arms. I will snuggle you and kiss you and rock you back and forth. I will sing to you and tell you stories. I will even let you in on all my secrets because I know you won’t tell anybody. (I know this all must sound very enticing, but please don’t try to show up to the party early. You need to stay in there and cook a little bit longer.)

I love you, Baby. I’m so glad I get to be your momma.

Love,
Momma