It's hard to believe that one week ago today The Fifth Element entered this world. Before I couldn't imagine her in it. Today, I already cannot fathom the idea of her not being part of our family.
I am 38 weeks and counting with the Fifth Element and you know what? I'm sick of counting. I need an eviction notice on this kid. I have already cried about four times this morning from pain or some sort of suffering. H is sick of it. I'm sick of it. I'm sure the girls are sick of it. This baby needs to get a move on. I might start taking nurses and midwives hostage at my appointment today if I find out I haven't dilated anymore. "Induce me or you are all getting Strep B tested!"
We're all very ready for this baby to arrive. I arrived home from Blogher (I'll be getting to that obligatory post-Blogher update shortly.) yesterday and upon entering the DC Metro area I began to have contractions. Maybe it was the jostling train ride, the luggage I unloaded from the car (I didn't feel like waiting for H to come home to do it.) or the fighting the girls were incessantly doing but for a few hours it really felt like "go time". I started packing my bag and writing down the times. Then, nothing.
Today I'm an emotional mess. As H said in a text to me recently, "Go dilation!"
It was the best of times. It was the warts of times. Warts, worst, whatever. I feel like an angry, old hag covered in warts right about now anyway. Vacation bliss is a distant memory. It's been a week of Braxton Hicks, little sleep, too much baby prep and testing of the parents.
H can't sleep with me because I'm a "loud breather" right now and I toss and turn so much these days while simultaneously moaning that I keep him up half the night. After he leaves our precious munchkins feel the need to wake me up with requests such as, "My skin is dry. I need lotion. Lotion all over my entire body." It's 1 a.m. I momentarily thought of shoving the lotion into the room via basket and telling TD, "It's puts the lotion on the skin..."
See? I'm just not myself. I just want to be done with the organizing of baby crap (I could do it in a day if I had the energy and army) and have this kid already. I'm done. I'm so over this pregnancy I need a new word for over.
It's not embarrassing enough to pee in a tiny cup each time I go to the doctor or to even pee in a jug for 24-hours straight. I just lurve lugging around a jug of my own urine. And keeping it in my fridge. Tasty.
No, pregnancy has many embarrassing moments.
Take yesterday when my bra just about combusted. At least that is what it felt like as it flew open with great force. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice and I was able to get the "girls", which these days are more like full-grown women, under control.
Or how about all those lovely times I've peed myself when I'm not even aiming for a cup or jug. I cough, sneeze or laugh too hard and there you have it. It's to the point that when I do sneeze around H, he glances over nervously and does a pee check. I love my life! The worst had to be the time I threw up from pregnancy-induced nausea and I vomited easily into the toilet but also managed to completely piss myself in the process. In front of my kids. I am a kick ass role model and potty trainer.
A few weeks ago my brain simply refused to figure out how to back out of a parking space. I just could not figure out which way to best turn the wheel. I got out of the car more than once to gauge angles. I adjusted mirrors and did some deep breathing. I even asked for "COMPLETE SILENCE! NOW! MOMMY IS THIIINNNKKKINNNGG!" in the car. Then, I gave up and asked for help from TD's play date's grandfather who quickly and effortlessly backed the car out of the parking space. Sigh. I felt even more like my hair color in that moment than I had in quite some time.
Did I mention that if I'm wearing any sort of scoop or v-neck ensemble I'll have a cornucopia of crumbs in my bra at the end of the day? It's all true.
I'm sure as I enter the third trimester there will be plenty more to come too. Maybe we can have a picnic in my bra. Wait, that just sounds wrong.
A few days ago I asked for baby name submissions both on the blog and Twitter. When it comes to names it seems H and I have totally different tastes. He has thrown in suggestions that are seventies throwbacks while I tend to like foreign or "old lady" names. Both the TD and The Comedian have Presidents in their names but I think we are running out of options in that category.
Can you really name a girl Fillmore, Polk or Bush? No. No, you cannot.
Perhaps we need to get real creative and use Lincolnia, Quincy or Clevelandia?
I've admitted before that this third pregnancy (Baby Trois) is kicking my ever-expanding ass. Months of nausea that seemed endless through the gray winter months nearly did me in. I gratefully accepted a pass into the second trimester and now at 27 weeks we begin a new journey, even if it is for just a day.
What's that song about "twenty-four little hours"? Right, Dinah Washington, 'What a Difference a Day Makes." Well, we shall soon see.
Today I begin a 24-hour urinalysis. TMI? Too bad. It's my blog. Check the labels. From this morning until I wake up tomorrow I have to pee into a bright biohazard orange jug. A jug o' pee, if you will. Tomorrow after dropping TD off at school I will head to the lab, give them my jug and have some blood drawn too. We're checking for anemia and possible preeclampsia. Again. I did this with TD. At 36 weeks I was put on bed rest with her due to preeclampsia and it was not fun. The swelling, the ache in my side, the nausea and early labor. Joy. However, it wasn't as scary as this where I'm not so far along and there is so much more time yawning before me if something is wrong.
I have been taking it real slow the last few days. No laundry has been beaten into submission. The kids are fed, dressed and we do our thing but there is no galavanting around town. We are at base-line operation levels here. I spend much of their nap times on the couch laying on my left side to combat the swelling. On the plus side, I've read all my magazines that have piled up, watched about five episodes of Vampire Diaries and gotten through quite a bit of 'My Fair Lazy'. Also, when I first begin swelling early in the day I look like I might have had my lips done. Heh. I load up on the pink gloss and stand in front of the mirror puckering a lot until my cankles get out of control and Heidi Montag Pratt would die of shame at the sight of my swollen nose.
I'll keep you posted. If it is anemia then I just take iron pills. If it is preeclampsia we have a whole different journey ahead of us. Baby Trois and I are in it to win it.