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.