My Precious Boy

Wesley is here and well. Better than well, actually, he's fantastic! He was born at seven pounds, four ounces, and 19.75 inches. All that heartburn I suffered through was well worth it for his beautiful head of dark hair, and contrary to popular belief, not all babies are born with blue eyes. We were not quite sure what color his eyes were when he was born, but they weren't blue and they've since turned to a gray-brown that I've never seen before, and I'm completely in love with it.

I don't have a picture that fully captures his greatness yet, but I doubt a picture will ever compare to him in person, so you'll have to make do with what I have. These pictures are copyrighted by JCPenney.






As you can see, he is the cutest baby ever. I love, Love, LOVE the picture of Wesley and Michael. I have more pictures to post that we have taken ourselves, but I haven't downloaded them to the computer yet. Hopefully I'll get that done soon, but one thing I have learned well is to not make plans or set time-specific goals.

I was wrong...

Darn it. So we're still waiting...and I'm to the point now where I'm done. The contractions got to about seven minutes apart, but it was really late so I went to bed, fully expecting to be woken by contractions in a few hours. But I wasn't. They stopped completely. Then yesterday I had contractions, and they got to about five minutes apart, and then they slowed down, and stopped. Grrr...

There is an end, though. At my appointment this morning I was about 3 cm and she said I was almost zero station, which means he really could come anytime. They cancelled the Foley catheter, so if he hasn't come by Wednesday, I'll go into the hospital for Pitocin then. At the latest, he will be here Thursday. They would have let me go in today, I think, but I really want to give him as much time to come naturally as I can, and still get him here before the new year.

Even now, though I am ready, I'm not desperate for him to come, and I'm thankful for that. Saturday was hard, after thinking that I was on my way to the hospital, but I'm okay now. I'm still sick of people asking me if I'm okay, but that's really the worst part.

Merry Christmas

Our Christmas was a fairly quiet one, spent mostly with Michael's family. We exchanged gifts, and as always, his parents went way overboard. It's nice though, in a way, because I know his mom really enjoys shopping for everyone and seeing us open everything. And she got me some more of the thick fuzzy socks I love so much. :)

I decided to write tonight because I think I am in labor. The very early stage, anyway. I'm pretty sure that if I am the later stages will not garner an "I think" so much as a "I'm in labor and if you bug me you'll regret it!"

If what I'm feeling are contractions, they are 10-20 minutes apart, lasting about 20-40 seconds. I would like to say I'm sure, but I'd hate to be wrong. I'll update as I can. Merry Christmas!

Come on Wesley!

At my appointment this morning I was 2 cm, and Wesley was in a posterior position. The midwife didn't say anything about effacement, but I assume it's advancing as well, since she said I probably won't need to go in on the 29th for the Foley catheter. Here's hoping I won't need the induction at all.

She stripped my membranes again, so that might move things along more too. It didn't hurt as much as last week, but she said she was pretty rough, so maybe it just hurts more when your cervix is less dilated. Or maybe it's just the difference between midwives.

Originally I was dreading being in the hospital on Christmas, but now I'm thinking I wouldn't mind so much. Being in the hospital (or even in labor and waiting to go to the hospital) would mean I wouldn't have to go to Michael's parents' or aunt's house and eat wierd food and pretend that this is my ideal Christmas. So, I wouldn't mind being in the hospital on Christmas...or anytime now, since I'd still be unable/unwilling to leave the house even if I wasn't in the hospital.

Vivid Dreams

I was right. With a little perspective, and time, and a little crying jag, yesterday morning actually wasn't so bad. Gotta love those hormones.

Can I also blame the hormones for the incredibly vivid dreams I've been having? At least once a week for the past few months, I've had dreams that seem so realistic. Maybe realistic isn't the right word, though, because it's certainly nothing that would ever happen in real life.

Last night I was back in high school and Mark, the guy I was completely in love with actually wanted to be with me (awesome!), but things were just a little off. For one thing, we slept together (as in really sleeping, nothing else), but I wouldn't have even done that, especially not in my house with my mom sleeping down the hall. Then when we woke up in the morning he wanted to tell Mom he slept there and that he wanted to marry me, and even though we didn't have sex I was very worried about getting pregnant...then I remembered that I already was and was relieved. Then I got mad at Mark for something and stole his care and drove to school. Somehow I managed to drive onto the median. Mark appeared and moved the car into a parking spot, but he did it with his hands. He literally picked the car up and put it down in the parking spot. Twilight, much? Well, yeah, turns out Mark was a vampire. I came to terms with that and then woke up.

The night before last Michael's mom was coming at me with a knife and yelling at me for not being Indian. I tried to remind her that she had another son to marry off to a proper Indian girl and she shouldn't worry about Michael because he didn't really want to bring his children up in the Indian culture anyway. Then she started chasing me and saying she was going to kill me, so I ran to our neighbor's house and he let me inside and called 911. I actually remember the conversation I had with the 911 operator, and feeling relief when I heard the sirens outside the house before she managed to break in.

Of course, I wasn't ever pregnant in high school, Mark was not a vampire, Michael and his family are not Indian, and I assume his mother doesn't actually want to kill me (thought I suspect she's not happy about me being Catholic and Michael converting, so that dream may have come from that).

And those were just the dreams from this week. I've had three of these really vivid dreams before, two of which used to be repetetive, but I haven't had them in a few years. So, three in my whole life, and now I'm having them at least once a week. I hope it stops after Wesley is born. I'm starting to be a little paranoid about how much I'm dreaming about Mark, though most of the time it's really Michael it just looks like Mark. It's still really wierd, and I hope it's the hormones.

Crappy Morning

How's your morning going? If it's going well, you might not want to read this post. While I'm aware that nothing that happened this morning was actually horrible, it all added up to a horrible morning for me, possibly only because I'm pregnant and hormonal.

What happened between my last blog post and now? Well, the first thing was the interview being canceled until after Christmas, when I might not be able to make it because I will likely either be in the hospital or recovering from child birth.

Then, I had to go out to Michael's mom's house because he wanted me to put FRAGILE stickers on the camcorder we just sold on eBay for shipping. Well...on the box...but anyway, that meant I had to deal with his mother's inane conversation on her usual topics of my pregnancy and her 'schedule'. Yeah, she doesn't work. She doesn't have kids at home. She doesn't have a frickin schedule, and I'm really tired of hearing about how much stuff she has to do.

Then I went and shipped the stupid camcorder, and the shipping cost three times as much as Michael decided to charge the buyer. We sold a $600 camcorder for $135, and lost $16 on the shipping. All because he wouldn't listen to me about the shipping charges. I am really okay with selling the camcorder for whatever we could get for it (within reason, which I felt $135 for a three-year-old used camcorder was). But losing money on the shipping because he wouldn't listen to advice from his WIFE? Not reasonable. Not even close to reasonable.

THEN, I got home and found myself locked out of the house. I keep my keys in my purse. Michael used them last night to lock the door and didn't put them back. I thought they were in my purse, when in fact, they were on the dryer. So, who comes to my rescue? Not Michael, because he's at work and on his way out of town. Michael's mom! YAY! I get to see and have to converse with Michael's mom twice in the space of an hour because he insists that she have a key to the house.

And THEN?!?! Instead of getting out of her car and handing me the keys to MY OWN HOUSE, or better yet staying in the car and handing me the keys, she got out of the car, marched up to MY door, and proceeded to unlock MY house. Then, she opens the door really slowly, because she simply assumes that I'm irresponsible enough to have left Harley out and she doesn't want him to get out. Except that I'm not. And her son is the irresponsible one, because if he had put MY keys back where they belonged, I wouldn't have been locked out of the house.

God forbid, though, that she let go of 'her' keys for two seconds and show me the respect I deserve. But, obviously, in her eyes I'm still a child, just like she sees her son, no matter how much she pretends to respect me. And if we take 'her' keys from her for any reason, the last thing she says is always "Make sure you get those back to me!"

Because, apparently, she has a right to have keys to our house. NOT! But Michael doesn't want to argue it with her, and he wants her to feel useful, and he wants her to have them in case of emergencies. Like this one. Except that he caused the emergency, and I would rather have driven to get his keys from him even though he was about 30 minutes away.

And now? Michael just called and he wants me to call his father at work. I JUST WILL NOT! I hate this place, and I hate Michael's interfering family who won't just leave us alone!

*We apologize, this special post has been interrupted so the pregnant blogger can have a major temper tantrum. She likely will not return today.*

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve

I woke up this morning to freezing temperatures and sparkly frost covering everything! This is the closest this area ever gets to a white Christmas, and it came four days early! So not cool. Especially since the weather on Christmas is supposed to be a high in the mid-60s and rainy.

But, since it's all I can get, I'll take it, mostly because I can stay inside, nice and cozy warm, while looking outside at the pretty sparkly field behind my house (at least until the sun comes up a little more).

I have had one white Christmas. I visited my dad in Atlanta one year, and it snowed 2 inches on Christmas Eve. Dad said it was because I was there and winter was showing off just for me. :) I had never actually been in snow before, and I was fascinated by the fact that it actually was in flakes. I even did a snow angel (which basically just cleared the snow and left a grass angel) and built a family of very tiny snowpeople. I will always cherish that Christmas with my dad.

On a very different note, I had a job interview today, but one of the interviewers had a death in the family, so the interviews are being postponed until after Christmas. Which is okay, I guess, except that I might be in the hospital when they want me to come in. And even if I'm not, I can't start working until February 1, at the earliest. I would prefer to not start working until March 1, but I'm going to have to take a job if I can get it, because I've come to terms with something recently.

I can't be a stay at home mom. I would love to be, but Michael just doesn't make enough money right now. It's true that he makes enough for us to live on, but it's not enough to get the things I want, namely a house. I simply can't raise more than one child in this house. I don't even want to think about having another child until we have another house, or at least begin building one. We can't do that until I have a job. Michael also needs a new truck. His is 14 years old. It still seems to run fine, it's true, but it's practically a senior citizen. I'm afraid that, eventually, its 'heart' will just give out. And, finally, since I have to work, I want Wesley to be in a good daycare. I don't want Michael's mom or aunt or family friend watching him. I have different reasons for each, but I'm just not comfortable with any of those options, and I'm not leaving my child with any of them.

So, I have to have a job, preferrably one that's above minimum wage, but I'll take what I can get.

Induction Scheduled

This morning at my weekly doctor's appointment, I was still 1 cm and half effaced. So I asked if we could induce the week between Christmas and New Year's, and the midwife said that should be okay, since I'll be past my due date by then. She scheduled it for the 29th and 30th. I'll go in on the 29th and they'll do a 'balloon', whatever that is, which is supposed to make my cervix dilate, and then on the 30th they'll start Pitocin, assuming my cervix did what it was supposed to.

Now, here's what I'm hoping will actually happen: Wesley will realize that he's got a deadline, and, just like me, will work really well under pressure and finish whatever developing he has to do. Then, whatever happens to start labor will happen and I'll be in labor before the 29th. That would be ideal, but either way, the 29th (or 30th) is D-Day.

The midwife also stripped my membranes this morning, which was far more painful than I expected. She said that it could help to get things going, but of course isn't as effective or reliable as medical induction. I have felt a little crampy since that, but that's normal apparently, and not indicative of anything. It also seems to have disturbed Wesley, he's moving a lot more than normal, but I don't mind.

So...just waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Frustrated

**Though I have tried not to be terribly explicit in this post, please know that is about an adult subject.**

This is a part of pregnancy I did not expect. Perhaps most women don't experience it, or perhaps many do and it's just not talked about because it's a little wierd.

I can't seem to get enough um... well, sex. My hormones are running crazy, and along with the crying over nearly nothing and constant aches, those pesky hormones normally associated with teenagers seem to have found their way back to my bloodstream. And it's seriously annoying.

Michael is not exactly obliging, mostly, I think, because I don't know how to tell him. We have never been terribly talkative about this, and whenever I try I get embarrassed and tongue-tied and I can never quite say what I want to say.

Part of that is because a few times (earlier in the marriage) I tried to be explicit about my needs without being verbal, and it didn't turn out well. Another part of the problem is that every time we try to talk about it and I find that I can't say what I want it just makes it harder for me to try again. I blush a lot. Too much for a married woman talking with her husband. And the final issue, I think, is that while Michael is invariably satisfied, I am not. Ever. At least not with intercourse. Yes, there are other methods and it usually happens one way or another, but I really hate that we have to do that.

And while I'm laying our issues bare, I might as well admit that, for various reasons, it's been a few months since I've been 'satisfied'. Which could explain my current overwhelming needs. The logical part of my mind does not lay the blame all at Michael's door. I know this is an 'us' problem. However, the logical part of my mind is not exactly in control right now, and so that makes me even more reluctant to say something because I'm afraid I'm going to say something I don't really believe, but do feel right now, and end up hurting him.

Because we've never been able to talk coherently about this, I don't know how he feels about me not being satisfied, or if he even notices. I would like to think that he notices, and that he cares to the point that it hurts him and he blames himself and he just doesn't know how to talk about it or what to do about it. If I knew he felt that way, I think I could talk with him about it more easily.

But, I'm afraid that he more feels like it's my problem, something that I need to fix. Again, logically, I know it's more likely that it's somewhere in the middle of those two extremes, but it's extremely frustrating regardless.

And, on any one occassion, I don't really care whether or not I'm satisfied. But all told for the past few months, it bothers me. It actually hurts that he doesn't say anything. I know I should be the one to take responsibility and say something, since it does bother me and I have a right to talk about this with him, but I guess I've read too many romance novels. Even regular fiction novels that are a little explicit generally depict a guy who takes responsibility for the girl's pleasure. And if there is a problem, it's generally the guy who blames himself.

Unrealistic? Yes, I know it is, and that's why the books are fiction. But that doesn't help me any right now. I don't know what would, I don't even know that talking about it would bring any difference, because the few conversations we've attempted in the past have failed so miserably.

My final admission of the day: It's all very depressing. Not just this issue, but all the things I have to deal with. Not having a job, dealing politely with Michael's parents and sister (especially his dad, who is incredibly excited and therefore more annoying than I thought possible), diplomatically rebuffing what I feel are inappropriate inquiries and touching, and living in this small town with no distractions or entertainments are really wearing on me. And I'm terribly afraid of developing post-partum depression. Not the baby blues, I think I could handle that, but real, debilitating depression. My son doesn't deserve that, nor does Michael, and I really don't want to have to deal with it. I've been depressed before, but never to the point that I felt I needed to seek help, even if I probably should have. It always goes away after a while. I'll have to seek help if it happens again, though, because now I have Wesley, and he deserves a mom who is whole and well. Just one more thing I don't want to talk about with Michael.

P.S. I just read the description on my baby bar, and thank God that none of that is true! I am uncomfortable, but I don't have hemorroids or any bathroom issues, and I'm really okay, as long as people don't ask me how I'm doing all the time, because that's just annoying.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is my mom's birthday, and she is an awesome person. I don't know how much I've talked about her, but I love her like crazy. She is a rock for me, who is too often just in the background of my life. I can talk to her about nearly everything, and I find myself closer and closer to her every year.

She raised my sister, brother, and I basically by herself (even when she was still married). I love the man my dad was when I knew him, but before that he didn't have it all together, and that made life really hard for my mom. She had the three of us to take care of, and she always did, whether she thinks she always did a good job or not.

She never lost sight of what was important (or at least not for long enough for me to notice). She took care of us while teaching us to take care of ourselves, and has now let go as much or as little as each of us needs as we make our way into full adulthood. Most importantly, and the gift I most treasure, she held onto her faith and principles, and passed them on to us.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.

Hungry

Hungry is my most defining personality trait right now. Second place is tied for tired and achy (ache-y? achey? idk). Yay late pregnancy!

Wesley has dropped a little, but as I have no experience with pregnancy, I have no idea if he's dropped as much as he's going to, or if there's more to go. I'm hoping that this is as much as he drops, because I can breath again and I'm running to the bathroom more often than I want.

At my last appointment they said I was negative for group Strep B, which is awesome, because I don't have to worry about antibiotics when I go to the hospital.

We have the nursery almost completely organized, and even if I go into labor today, there's no preparation in there that has to be done. There are certainly things we can do if we have time, but nothing is essential.

And my to do list? It's mostly done. The house is almost completely decorated, the final touches are kind of ancillary so I'm just doing them as I feel like it. The dishes did get done, and I've kept them done. I'm not behind on laundry. As I said the nursery is fairly complete. One of the bathrooms is clean and the other one is nearly so (but we almost never use it, so I'm not as fussed about that).

I can certainly feel that nesting instinct kicking in, though. As I get things done I keep thinking of other things I need to do. The floors haven't been properly scrubbed in awhile, but I'm not going to attempt that since my idea of 'properly scrubbed' is the use of practically boiling water (changed every time it gets dirty) used with floor cleaner and a scrub brush on your hands and knees. I know better than that, but I still want to do it. I'll have to settle for Swiffer.

I'd also like to dust everything, change the sheets on the beds (which I can't do because I can't lift mattresses - especially the king), clean the washer and dryer, use Magic Eraser to clean all the fingerprints off of everything, clean all the windows (pre-requisite for finishing the Christmas Decorations with window clings), and make and freeze about 10-20 more lunches/dinners.

Now, I know I can't get all of that done on my own, and I know I probably won't get all of it done anyway, but it actually feels good to have goals, even if it occasionally feels like I'll never finish. Good practice, right?

Blech!

Today is a cold rainy day. I hate cold rainy days. I don't like rain in general, and now it's cold too. Ick!. I wish that means I could stay in bed all day and read, as I would if I didn't have any obligations. But, I do have obligations, things I need to do.

I still have gifts and hand-me-downs to put away in the nursery, and I'm discovering that I don't have enough room for everything. Some of the bigger clothes are just going to have to go in space bags and be put away until Wesley grows into them. And somehow I ended up with four tote-type bags. Four! One is camoflauge, and so we're going to use that as Michael's diaper bag. But the other three? No idea what I'm going to do with them. I hate tote bags, and they generally don't work as real diaper bags because it's just one big hole (which is why I don't like them to begin with). It's beginning to dawn on me how useless some of the stuff people have given us is.

I also need to do the dishes from dinner last night. I was so tired last night I was dizzy, so they didn't get done. Hopefully I'll manage to get them down before dinner tonight.

On the plus side, I have already been to the grocery store, gotten all of the deals without spending any extra money (for once), and come back home and put everything away. So that's done. But I still have so much more to do. The bathrooms need to be cleaned, and all the floors swept, and the sheets changed, and the nursery still needs to be organized some more, and I need to decorate for Christmas. That's not a long list right?

I'm going to go with 'right!', and try to get at least a quantifiable something done today. At least one of those jobs will be done, no matter how cold and rainy it is!