The End- A Summary (a LONG Summary)

So by now the pregnancy is over and done with...and I am left with a beautiful little girl. The nugget now has a face I can stare at...little gums that I love the shape of...and the bodily functions of a 300 lb trucker on a chili diet. But I'll get to her....
First, the end of my pregnancy...I dropped the blogging, and for the most part any other contact with the outside world. My pregnancy stopped "funny" sucking and starting "real life" sucking. Besides the hot flashes, swelling, breathlessness, and constant nausea, I developed something that the doctors actually consider a problem during pregnancy - gestational hypertension. I was sent to Labor and Delivery numerous times because of High Blood Pressure. Evrytime I went in, they told me that I might be having the baby that day - starting at 32 weeks. However, by the time I was resigned to that fact (anything to get out of the little observation room and into a room with a TV!) they would send me home to continue on my new-found, high-risk pregnancy journey.
I had a daily phone appointment with a nurse who needed to know my blood pressure from the night before and that morning, the reading of a urine protein test, all my symptoms and how long it took for the baby to kick me 10 times. Based on this information, they would say "Have a nice day," or "you're going to need to be on bedrest today," or "head over to Labor and Delivery." I wasn't supposed to exercise or do much of anything...so I did just that. The days that I did go to work I felt horrible and exhausted. The days that I didn't were boring. By 36 weeks I just stopped working instead of being the unpredictable employee...also known as the crying employee, the one who pukes all the time, or the employee that only wears 3 different things because nothing else "touches her."
I also had a weekly non-stress test. This is where you go in and sit in a lounge chair while they monitor the baby's heart rate changes during movement. They also hook you up to a monitor that shows you how many contractions you're NOT having, therefore reminding you that you WILL be back next week. These are where I came to learn the brand of nurses that have horrible beside manner...sharing stories of not finding fetal heart beats while searching for one in you, and making general comments of surprise like you are presenting something that is foreign to modern medicine.
At my 35 week appointment I was also told what I knew for a while...the baby was transverse, i.e. laying as if in a hammock. They don't even TRY to turn a baby in this position...you are instantly scheduled for a c-section. I asked for 7-11 (for obvious slurpee association reasons) but got the 15th of July. However, I wasn't about to give up - I ordered a baby turning meditation, I had Chi Qong done, I did inversion positions that you wouldn't believe, and I hung out in the pool. At 36 weeks she had turned...breech. At 37 weeks I went in and my amniotic fluid was low. My doctor said she was sending me to labor and delivery and if they confirmed it, I was having the baby - so stop drinking water (and don't let the doctor see it). Then she said I should even spit out my gum...so I did. Into my mom's hand - make doctor laugh -Check. No good though...fluid was fine and again I went home- thirsty and starving. I jumped in the pool again and at 38 weeks she was head down. C-section canceled, induction scheduled. I hated the idea of an induction, but my blood pressure dictated the schedule.
OH, and there was a heat wave during this time. I gave in and moved into my mom's house for about 10 days. I sat in the air conditioning by day and got mommied by evening...and at night I didn't have to worry about waking anyone next to me if my images of stabbing his snoring face were so strong as to make noise in my head...sleep was almost non-existent.
The last week I was in my own house once again...starting to contract here and there, getting very excited. My induction was scheduled for Thursday morning (7-14). I spent the time leading up making sure I was well packed, the house was cleaned (hoping this would start labor), and everything was perfect. I plucked and shaved so that Thursday at 8:30 a.m. I would be Heidi Klum giving birth. And at 8:30 am on Thursday I was all ready...and called in. Sorry, full moon, no room at the (Kaiser) Inn, call again. Every two hours. So basically I would call Kaiser...then rent a movie off cable...then call...I would cry to the nurse on the phone, I would curse the other people who dared to go into labor, I would watch the clock. Thursday night I was thinking I might make it in without having to be invited, but FAIL. It took until 7pm on Friday night for them to tell me to come on in. It was like winning an Academy Award (I'm guessing here), and that was the end of the end and the beginning of everything else!

Useful Distinctions

Ok, this seems to be a particularly difficult one for some people (or something other people can identify with TOO much). One of these things is a baby and one is a circus monkey. One has the ability to talk at some point, and one jumps higher and has a tail. But here's where people get confused...one is employed purely for your enjoyment and entertainment, and one is NOT. The other happens to be my sweet little nephew Aidan - but here, he represents all people roughly his size (primordial dwarfs in the entertainment business excluded).
Now, it may be a little early for me to get irked about this, but a)I'm annoyed by everything these days, and b)I can see that it will logically continue to MY small non-primordial-dwarfed person.
As much as we all enjoy cuddling babies, or playing with children, or seeing pictures - none of these are the sole purpose of these little creatures. Sure, we love them, so hopefully people understand looking out for their best interests or simply not making them a spectacle.
Already, Charlotte has taken a strong stance on performing for others. She's not willing to do it...she flat our refuses. She can be doing what I can only imagine is the dance of some highly caffienated tribe, but when anyone, include Mr. P or Auntie G try for a peek - she goes statuesque. And you know what? I respect her for that. She doesn't owe anyone anything.

HAVING or BECOMING a Baby?

So this up-front lady-lump, and strange wiggles in my gut are a pretty tried and true indication that I am HAVING a baby. However, there are also too many signs to ignore, that indicate I am actually BECOMING a baby instead.

First sign, the sleeping. At first, all I did was sleep - it was an insatiable need. I could easily fall asleep while eating or sitting on someone's lap. There was no limit - I slept. Now, a few more months later...I can't seem to get on a sleep schedule. I can take a 15 or 20 minute nap here and there, and at night, I am up with no sign of the sandman.

Second sign, the eating. First I was eating a lot all the time...then I didn't want to eat anything...then I ate, but everything came back up. Now I'm picky about something different every day, but always up for dessert.

Third sign, the tears. You'd think I sprung a leak. I cry when I'm tired, sometimes if I'm too hungry, if something hurts, if the day ends in "Y", and if your look says to me, "you're fat." I can switch from happy to weepy in an instant...in fact, sometimes it's NOT a switch, but a continuation.
And finally, the potty. I have to go all the time. I'm a pee machine. That either makes me a baby or my brother...cause he's a 34 year old pee machine...but I digress. I have to go at inconvenient times...when driving down the road, when shopping, when I've just walked OUT of the bathroom, in the middle of the night when I can't get out of bed. And sometimes, I'll admit...I have an accident. *GASP* Whatever...you chose to read this...even after that barf post.
So, I have decided this is a continuum of the theory that pregnancy gets you ready for having a baby. I am not only up all night, but I'm constantly hanging out with a pee factory who doesn't like what I packed for lunch by noon and cries without any indication of what is wrong, other than the sun has once again risen. Go figure...

Auntie G's Wisdom: From the Mouth of Babes

So I already wrote a long, drawn out, poor me, wha-wha blog today and decided against posting it. It wasn't even funny-pathetic, just plain pathetic. Then I remembered a part of yesterday that I will never forget. I had my first shower yesterday and it was great, but this was before my shower. I got to Auntie G's early so we could drive together (my DD duties have been so sparce in the last 8 months!). I chugged some juice and we layed down to see if Charlotte would dance. Enter Sammy, Auntie G's third successful attempt at an awesome little boy. Sammy is a baby loving cuddle bug. He stopped his football game to remind me I had a baby in my belly when I arrived. He came in to see if he could feel her kick too. She didn't kick him, but he flew back as if she did. I told him he could talk to her and she would hear him. He said hi to her and asked me if she (Charlotte) liked him. I said yes, and he said he loved her. He looked at Auntie G and said he was in that belly. Until she barfed (complete with gagging motion) him out. Ahh so sweet:)

*this is actually Sammy, at age 3, getting ready to barf up cake while I laugh hysterically
6 years ago he was in that belly...and roughly right around the same week of the year as Charlotte will be joining us, Sammy started getting ready to get "barfed out." Auntie G and I sat in that same bed, her belly the big lump that time, contractions coming and going, waiting to meet SAMUEL/AVERY. Now Sammy is in the bed with us...tall, smart, and ful of personality - waiting to meet Charlotte.
Seriously sappy moment.

Cheat Day

I don't have much to write. I'm trying to be more positive and that drains a lot of funny out of this experience. I know I've already exhausted the subjectof swelling (as well as the comments and the hurling) - but this just kept coming to mind, so I had to share it. This scene is a very close portrayal of me simply walking in the door from work lately. Plus, it's just one of my favorite scenes ever (although I would watch Golden Child over Big Trouble in Little China any day, if pressed to pick an Asian crime 80's flick). And this is literally what I see my face and hands do by the end of every day...

29 weeks (one artist's depiction)

I'm 29 weeks pregnant. Same as 20 or 24, just bigger. Although last month, according to Dr. Skinny & Cute, I only gained 3 pounds- I would have to imagine it breaks down to +12 pounds water weight that gives my face, hands and feet distinct and oh-so-sexy Shrek-like features, +2 pounds in body hair, -5 pounds in lost brain matter (and therefore function), -3 pounds in unexplained tears, -5 pounds in continued spewing, and -3 pounds in lack of make-up or many other forms of standard up-keep.
I could bitch and moan some more, although I am enjoying all her movements and getting excited about seeing her, and DYING to buy her stuff.
I could bitch and moan about moving while pregnant, although everyone is doing their best to help and be generous and I am incredibly lucky in a million trillion ways.
I could bitch and moan about loss of sleep or general discomfort, but what the hell did I think I was signing up for? Plus, I recognize that this would be wildly insensitive to those who have REAL trouble with pregnancy.
So, for today's break I just did an artist's (the artist being yours truly) rendition of what I sometimes imagine is inside of me. And if it isn't totally clear by the picture...I do very much love this kid already.

Like a Police Sketch, but Cuter

Like most parents, I'm sure - I am beyond curious what this nugget is going to look like. Not so much (but who am I kidding?) at the beginning, but after it stops looking swollen and red and alien like.
So this is what one website says our baby is going to look like:

I know it's for entertainment purposes only- and very "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Ten Days" (unfortuntely Mr. P is stuck with me!) - but this kid is not 1/2 bad looking!
Just to check my work - and my life decision - I decided to see what my baby would look like if I had been seeded by the leader of the free world:

Check it out!! Mr. P's kid is cuter than Mr. President's kid!
We have baby pics of both of us up in our house. I'm voting for a lot of his gene's (he was the cutest little pouty faced baby)- but not his beard.