Switching Gears

A complete melt-down on the couch was the only way through my pity party at being 37 weeks pregnant, 3 years post-K, and evacuating from the next storm. I've tried too hard to keep my emotions in check, and of course, Mama tears means Ana fears: she peppered me with stuffed animals on every part and several blankets. Two Oreos for good measure.

Until my sob-fest, I was generally p-od about evacuating, and seethed with every mention Kevin made of going to the beach, and making the most of it. The very thing that I love about this man was completely maddening. I usually need his ying to my yang, but this time, just once, I wanted him to say, "It's not safe for us to venture too far away. Let's do X, and so-and-so will take care of the kids if you go into labor, and this will be our plan if X happens." Of course, this has never been and never will be, my husband.

I wish I could say that finances hasn't been playing a secret role in our struggle to decide, but it has. With maternity leave beckoning, and an invisible savings, the thought of an impromptu vacation seemed irresposible and reckless. So given some tips from our saavy friend, Holly, who negotiated our Ft Walton Beach accomodations for a song, I got online to negotiate directly with condo owners in the hopes that someone could give us a reduced rate at a relaxing locale.

vrbo.com was the site we hit. Lists of room descriptions, availability, and photos, and links directly to the owners for your negotiating needs. Holly shared that she had told them about her family, pointed them to her blog, etc. Given my recent online rants, I didn't point anyone to the blog, but told them about mine and Kevin's work, our kids, and my pregnancy. Within the hour, we'd received 4 phone calls. One with an offer we could neither refuse or believe. A condo owner on Navarre Beach was willing to have us stay at his condo for 3 nights for the cleanup fee. That's $90 people. George Georgiou is his name, and he's the chair of the Make A Wish Foundation, to which we'll be making a donation in his name.

And so, where am I now? I'm remembering the good that Katrina brought me. How it was an opportunity to be vulnerable and needy, and truly experience the kindness and beauty of people. And thanks to Mr. Georgiou, I feel my heart opening again, right when I'm tempted to be cynical, and angry and give up. I'm grateful at his reminder of how these situations bring us closer to each other, and that, is worth fighting for. I know I can go away, and I think, after this random act of love, I think I can come back too.

Gratefully yours,

Emmy

I'm pissed

We don't know if/when we're going anywhere.
We're not in the hospital's power grid (that's the next block over).

Our laughable "plan..." we have no timetable and have made no preparations and my husband has work this evening (don't even get me started). We may go to Prarieville, LA which sounds like the kind of place where lots of trees fall down in a hurricane. It's right outside Gonzales. A friend has offered us their other hotel room in Laurel, MS. Some people actually book multiple rooms in advance of the storm. Imagine that. Didn't we do this once before? Why do I feel caught unaware?

My doctor sent me from my Thursday visit with a copy of my chart. I guess that's a green flag to go somewhere else and have a baby.

Is it not hard enough just to bring a new little person into the world, and our lives?
Sometimes I wonder why things have to be so extra hard around here, and it just has me pissed.

I'm off to hear the latest...like I haven't listened to the news all day yesterday.

Decisions

For the last few days, I've been feeling contractions, the baby's head grinding down, and pain when I stand or walk around. I know it's all typical, but coupled with the recent accounts of pre-40wk births and my mountain of pre-leave responsibilities at work, I'm generally a bit anxious.

Which makes reports of a hurricane looming even more threatening. From this graphic, you can see that we're not only in the cone, but at the end of the projected path, like a fuse being lit to it's inevitable watery bomb. The Roadrunner and Coyote come to mind, with their ongoing feud with ACME products as the weapon of choice. But I know too well...it's no joke. No matter where this sucker makes landfall.

In my head, I'm thinking of Katrina, 3 years ago Friday, when we evacuated with Ana and Elliot, only 3 weeks old. And here I am now, 3 years later, with a baby shortly on the way...and faced with evacuation. Grid-lock labor, and the thought of it, is enough to make me want to move forever.

One friend and fellow blogger evacuated 2 days before her daughter was born, driving home and going into labor (forgive any inaccuracies, CR). I may not have the timeline or details completely right, but her stressful feelings surrounding the context around the baby's arrival have stuck with me. Less than ideal is an understatement. She advises that we stay.

Almost everyone else advises the opposite, with tips on reducing our travel time, secret places to stay, the danger of not having medical care (what IF the hospital 2 blks away shuts it's doors? what if there's no potable water, or the river levees are toppled, or x, y, z).

We have never prepared for a hurricane, beyond packing our bags.

I don't know if I have it in me. The staying or the going.

I have an OB appt. tomorrow, and will talk with her about where I am in this pregnancy, and what options I should consider as viable. Until then, I remain harried and cranky as all hell.

Wake Up Call

Two friends have told me lately that they had their babies at 37 weeks!

It really freaked me out. I have so much to tell my replacement at work, haven't bought new maternity bras or new pjs with buttons down the front, no suitcase packed (literally or figuratively), the camera has gone missing, you name it!

So- you guessed it! I'm trying to get those things done now.

Downshifting

After my anemia scare, and some serious self-analysis, Kevin and I made the painful decision to spend a few days at the beach(-; We joined our gracious hosts, Paul, Holly & the crew, and brought our own two beach bums to Fort Walton Beach, FL and it was worth every gas station-bathroom run along the way.

Automatic playmates for the kids, great company for us grown-ups, luxurious accomodations at the Waterscape (SUPER amenities for children, esp.), impeccable weather=paradise!

By the way, has anyone ever seen a sea slug? Holding and playing with one in the bluegreen gulf waters was definitely a highlight for me.

And just as relaxing: returning to work with things running smoothly, and the assistant director relishing her role as my replacement. I really feel like I can go have a baby now.

Tomorrow, baby O is 36 weeks! It feels like it's happening so fast all of a sudden. But believe me, I'm ready.

35 week update

Things are looking good.
I'm feeling much better.

My uterus is 35 cm...back on target.
I lost a pound, not surprising with how I was feeling last week.

There's a lot of baby on my ribs...Dr. R. thinks he may be 8 lbs! I don't know why I associate this with health, but I do. Elliot was such a little guy (and yeah, he's got a helluvalotta personality packed in that little frame) that I've been worried with my non-existent weight gain, that maybe something is wrong. Truth is, baby may still have health issues, or missing parts, or mysteriously named congenital defects, and be 8 lbs. I know this. But for whatever reason, I like her prediction, and I'll love this baby. If anything, we know so well that children with special needs are just children, and they need what we all do...I guess it's just my time to think about that.

Guess What? I'm PREGNANT!

Not news to you?

Apparently, it's news to me.

Thanks to several friends and family members, I'm starting to recognize this bit,
and slowing down. Apparently, it took me 9 months to figure this out.

Feeling better.
Taking iron supplements.
Eating and Drinking lots of liquids.

Taking it slow.

Anemia? Update?

My doctor doesn't think I have anemia.
My recent blood tests for gestational diabetes would have shown this, she says.

She thinks I have a virus.
I think I'd rather have anemia than a virus. Being sick (getting fever) and pregnant
scares the shit out of me.

Does anyone have the experience of having anemia undetected by the OB?

I'm home, and feel weak and worn.

Domestic Diaries

My housekeeping leaves much to be desired. So don't get any ideas from this entry.

For months I've considered trying some natural (read: made from household items) cleansers. Today was the day, and I'm sorry we waited so long.

I attacked the bathroom with a simple baking soda & dishwashing liquid paste I'd read about somewhere (Real Simple?). All it took was being spotted by the Dynamic Duo with a frothy toothbrush to the wall, and the kids took over.

It was like a scene from Oliver, or some other musical set in an orphanage...they were all over it.

Ana took to calling the mixture wiping butter. And explaining to Elliot all of the appropriate ways of applying this.

In a matter of minutes, I was able to tackle the dirty dishes. I've never been able to clean the bathroom with kids around, let alone with them. Yay, for baking soda! I actually had to give them a stopping time limit, to the pleas of Please, Mama? Just 5 more minutes? (Insert sarcastic chuckle here).

And best part: were they ever proud of our sparkling, gleaming porcelain and chrome tub and sink.

Maybe this will unleash some new family habits. But frankly, I doubt it.

Food Aversion returns?

For the past three days, I've eaten only toast, ice cream, or cereal. The thought of anything else makes me sick.

I feel weak and tired, and sometimes dizzy.

Today, I woke up from a mid-day nap ready to eat. Picked up a salad: Bibb lettuce, grilled shrimp, avocado, black olives, hard-boiled eggs, cilantro dressing. Sounds lovely, eh?

I ate two bites.

What is this? I'm worried about baby, and need the energy.

Any moms out there ever been on iron supplements? A friend mentioned she had her OB put her on them after being completely depleted of energy 3rd trimester. I'm wondering if they will really jive with my binder-free, vegan pre-natals that are so easy on my body.

Getting close

First off, congrats to Chrissie, Cade, and Sydney on the newest addition, baby Evan, born yesterday evening! I can't wait to see the baby.

It's hard for me to believe that I still have 6 weeks to go. My level of physical fatigue, mental exhaustion, and general hunger are surprising to me, and I feel like I can better understand Chrissie's eye-rolling frustration at her continued state as the month wore on. I'm tired, and not feeling glowy, or radiant. Just bulky, clumsy and pooped.

To Elliot, My Son, Who is Three

Dear Elliot,

It's hard to believe that you're turning three at 8:15 tomorrow morning. It seems like just yesterday, you were being put into my arms as I wailed, "Where's my baby? Give me my baby!" And just like that, it seems like you're not a baby anymore.

These days, you're into Superman and Spiderman and Monsters. When we open the door sometimes, you say, "Big Bad Wolf." Trucks and Thomas pique your interest, but in homage to your sister, when you can pick a color, you choose Pink.

You're a fish in the water...fearless completely. It scares us to death, how you put your head under, mouth open, and come up laughing, smiling, and demanding "Again!" You have a ridiculous full-body Sponge Bob floaty-suit (bright yellow to attract maximum attention) because you refuse all our attempts to help you. "Myself," you say, as we try to hold you in the water. Yes, my boy, you can do so much yourself. Thank you for reminding us.

You are such a social butterfly! You love seeing your family...every morning you do your role call, and greet us with a hug, and demands to "nuggle." As I watch you through the day, you pull people to you, teachers, friends, sometimes strangers. I honestly believe that you see God in people, recognize the best in them, and love them for it. You have a real gift there. It defines you when I think of who you are as a person.

You are equal parts tornado and sponge these days, whipping through the house, bouncing pinball-like from one chaotic creation to the other. You laugh at our discipline, and go "boneless" when we try to move you from your latest disaster. Everything is interesting to you. For about 15 seconds. Then you're on to the next bit. Mama is trying to keep up, but I'm getting bigger and more tired. Is this just a phase? Maybe between the cake and ice cream tomorrow, you can let me know.

You're talking up a storm:

I want more baleada please.

Tito is in Honduras.

I want to sit next to Ana.

I'm going to sleep in Mama's bed.

And now everything is "mine." My daddy, my tita, my bear, my turn.

But we mostly love the sweet inflections you use when calling our names, or saying "Darlin,'" Mama's term for you and Ana. You always couple this with some eyelash fluttering, or moving your chin to your chest. It couldn't be sweeter or more endearing, the way you add the extra sugar. You're full of hugs, and kisses ("with noise," we request); it's rare that you tell us, "no," when it comes to lovin' but we understand.

You love your sister so, and follow her around like a little duck. That is, when you're not completely destroying whatever she's working on, or doing exactly what she's telling you not to do. She's having to adjust to the fact that you're not a baby, too. You're doing a great job of asserting yourself.

Favorite moments in everyday life:

• nightly tickles
• helping take out the trash
• any baking that involves the use of the big red and chrome mixer
• flushing the toilet
• reading
• playing your red accordian
• opening the oven (and stepping on the door, if we're not careful
• climbing the inside of the fridge!
• washing the dishes
• opening the car door. Esp. if we're crossing a long bridge. with no where to stop.

And boy, do you laugh! You love a good giggle, and often laugh just because you see others laughing. What joy you bring! Life is never dull with you around, Elliot. You keep us smiling, and running. I'm so grateful that I get to watch you grow each step of the way. I love you, Elliot. Happy Birthday!