Accepting...

...this postpartum body is easier than I remember it being. Although, I find myself utterly annoyed by the extra skin congregating around my midsection, and the extra 'breastfeeding fat stores' hanging out on my thighs, and my shirts not fitting because...well we discussed that in another post. I am much more accepting and much more appreciative of my body than I've ever been before.

Maybe that's because it has bore me 3 healthy, gorgeous children, but maybe it's because I just don't care anymore. I'm going with the first option. Since I get to choose if I'm happy or not...the first option seems 'happier'.

I feel strange saying that I'm okay with the extra poundage, but I truly am. My body tends to hold on to extra weight while I'm nursing.

Isaiah breastfed 7 months. Then he quit on his own, and I lost the baby weight by the time he was a year old.

With Jayme, when we got home from the hospital I weighed nearly 20 pounds less than I do right now. It's hard to believe, and I really don't think being that thin was good. Looking back at pictures, I looked pretty unhealthy. She quit nursing at 3 months old due to me being heavily medicated from a kidney infection that nearly shut down my kidneys. Not fun...and nursing was a battle with her anyway.

So this time, I am determined to not be bothered by the extra weight because I know it's helping with the whole breastfeeding success . And my goal is to breastfeed this kiddo until she is at least 18 months old...maybe even longer.

This doesn't give me an excuse to eat whatever I want, and to not exercise. No, it sure does not. I'm doing body weight exercises, and yoga. I'm eating gluten free, and mostly dairy and sugar free. It's tough sometimes, but I find myself wanting less and less dairy and sugar...gluten is easy because it makes me want to die most of the time. And dairy is usually easy because Madalynne throws up what looks like whole containers of cottage cheese when I eat dairy. Nasty. Sugar on the other hand...ugh. Sugar. I made fudge last night and it's amazing!! Anyway...

Here we sit, 12 pounds from my goal weight, with 22 pounds lost...well not lost, because I don't ever want to find them again. So 22 pounds gone. For good. I'm losing weight slowly...so slowly it's almost annoying. But again...Madalynne has made it SO far in this nursing expedition. It makes my heart happy...and there is a pride that comes with being the only one that has nourished my child for so long.

Anyway...I'll gladly wear different shirts, and buy a larger size of jeans. These beautiful children, and all the joy they bring me is so far past worth it I can't even begin to tell you.

Nursing Mother Problems

While I really do LOVE  breastfeeding Madalynne, this had to be written.

I'm beyond grateful that my body and the babe have cooperated this long in our breastfeeding journey. She's such a nursing champ. However, there are a few things about nursing that drive me bat sh*t crazy.

Nursing mothers will know exactly what I'm talking about.

Before you leave the house, it is imperative that you check the nursing ability of EVERY outfit. If said outfit does not meet the necessary requirements, one must change. Pushing straps down. Pushing fabric out of the way. And still making sure you don't flash the ENTIRE world while trying to feed your tiny human. While still maintaining a bit of variety in your wardrobe. It's comical. Or sad. I'm not sure which, at this point.

While getting dressed, I attempt to wear clothing that contain the 'nursing knockers.' I try to be conscious that not everyone is quite as much of a fan of them as my husband. While they are great, it's really challenging to find clothes that fit right in the chest while not swimming on the rest of my body. Typically, when I get dressed in the morning, my top fits really well. It's not revealing, and everything is where it should be. As time passes since the last time the babe nursed, said 'knockers' get larger and larger. And said top becomes more and more slutty (please pardon my description....this is hilarious to me, but it's late (for me) and I'm having a hard time coming up with 'appropriate' words). It's just challenging. I've thought about just wearing Jon's t-shirts ALL the time until Madalynne is weened, but that seems a bit dramatic.

This one might be the most annoying of all. Madalynne has reached that age where she CAN'T miss anything. Heaven forbids something fascinating should happen during the 15 minutes it takes her to completely drain both sides. Oh no...she has to get let down started and unlatch 45 times during each feeding. I'm going through a lot of nursing pads. A lot. On a side note, Isaiah and Jayme find the 'let down shower' hilarious...which is, of course, not helping with the whole distraction thing.

Oh, and clogged ducts. If you were unaware of such a thing, let me inform you. It's AWFUL!!! I mean really horrible. I've gotten more than I can count this time around. It truly feels like she's trying to suck milk that resides in my feet. I'm not kidding...that's really what it feels like. And if I happen to leave the babe with someone, and need to pump, it's guaranteed that I will have a clogged duct for the next 3 days. Miserable. Luckily, not one of these clogged ducts has turned into mastitis.

This one is new to me...milk blisters, or blebs. That one is more painful than clogged ducts. It makes me want to cry just writing about it. So if you're super curious...Google it.

Anyway, this is what I have chosen to put up with to provide my baby with the best nutrition I can. I'm embracing it, laughing at it...and sometimes swearing at it. But, among its' many benefits, it's on tap, it's the perfect temperature, and it provides me a reason to sit and rock my baby sometimes 20 times a day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

48 Hours

I've decided to call my new journey of using gentle tones and kind words 'Spoken Softly'. 

The first 24 hours of 'Spoken Softly' were fairly easy. 

Then, yesterday mid morning (ish) both kids decided that they were not going to eat any of the foods that they asked for. They started defying everything and anything I asked of them. They both picked yesterday to throw the worst temper tantrums I have ever seen from either of them. It was horrible. They took early naps, and I made a pot coffee during the middle of the afternoon (which doesn't usually happen anymore...I know you're thinking it does. 

But still, by around dinner time I was losing my cool. 

I wanted to cry. I didn't. 

I wanted to yell. I did. 

See what I mean about not being perfect?

Jayme burst into tears. I thought Isaiah was fine, but then I found him in tears in his bed. 

Fail. 

After saying I was sorry, and a fair amount of coaxing, they both came to sit with me. We read some stories, and cuddled for awhile. The rest of the evening was like walking on egg shells, but we made it through without me flipping out again. 

Today, I will pay close attention to triggers that push me past my limit and I will adjust accordingly. 

I feel like yesterday was a break through, even though it wasn't deemed a 100% success. 

I made it 36 hours without yelling or losing my cool. It's a start. 

Today I will do better. 

Here I Sit, Making A Vow

Here I sit on the kitchen floor, among the spilled cocoa puffs, holding a crying three year old because I have, once again, lost my cool. Not entirely over the spilled cocoa puffs, but it was the last straw.

Both my children have such tender hearts, one harsh word sends them into a cascade of tears...and it breaks my heart every time. Yet the harsh words still flow out of my mouth before I can cram them into nonexistence.

I hate the part of me that allows that to happen.

My children are so very forgiving. I suppose God made children that way. Still the same, it doesn't make it okay to speak to children, or anyone for that matter, in a harsh or 'ugly' tone.

So here I sit, making a vow to always speak to my children in a loving, gentle tone, unless their very lives depend upon me yelling or speaking loudly.

Now note, that this does NOT mean that my children will be undisciplined.

I'm a prideful person. It takes a lot for me to ask for help. Usually help is right there for me to grab at, but while struggling with other things that are currently in my life, I know I need it more than before.

As my readers, will you help me with this? 

Remind me. 

Let me have a break. 

Speak encouraging words to me. 

I'm a little hesitant to admit being harsh with my kids. It is another one of those things that isn't talked about because parents are afraid to let other people see that they aren't 'perfect' parents. Stupid, really. 

I really wish we lived in a society where 'village parenting' was more active. I'm thankful for the people around me that don't mind 'parenting' our kids when we're not around...or even when we are around. Sometimes, I get cranky with these people because it feels like they feel the need to step in because I'm not doing my job.

I know this isn't true. They're just trying to be helpful.

I haven't had any uninterrupted mommy time in over 2 weeks. It's due. Way past due. Not that I'm making excuses. Anger and frustration should never be taken out on others, although that is what almost always happens in our society. 

If we lived in little villages where moms were around each other near constantly with their children while their husbands were at work, the stress levels in homes would be so much lower. I'm pretty sure it would be anyway. 

Back to my point; I intend to have a relationship with my children where they don't feel criticized. Where they feel loved regardless of mistakes, messes or otherwise. And I am certain that the best way to do this is to show them the respect of kind words, even during discipline and correction.

Children learn best through example, right?

The Spit-Up Chronicles

I fed the babe, this morning, after getting ready for my day because she slept in a bit. A regular occurrence, but still lovely. After eating like she thought she was dying of starvation, she puked all over me. And not just a little bit. It was all over my shoulder, my arm, and filled my lap. Also, a regular occurrence...but it usually happens before I'm all dressed and ready for my day, so I don't mind changing, but as I mentioned previously, I was already dressed.

So I wiped up what I could, and then found myself spraying pet odor destroyer on my now sour smelling pretty blue shirt and capri yoga pants, the perfect staying at home summer outfit, because I didn't want to change. It did help some...but it still smells kinda icky. I guess I'll just spray more on.

Then after I got that ordeal cleaned up, I set the babe on my hip facing out...she hurled some more as I turned around. I heard it hit the floor, but I still haven't found it. It just disappeared. I'm sure I'll find it somewhere after it's already dried and crunchy.

On a more regular basis than I'm comfortable with discussing, when the babe burps, the dogs come running because they KNOW that it will take me a couple seconds to reach the spit up that inevitably lands on the floor...so they get the clean up privileges. Nasty, I know. I just gagged writing about it.

Then you have the spit up that seeps into the chubby baby's neck rolls, and the only reason you find it (hours later) is because it smells so horrific.

How can a baby so adorable smell so terrible?

So gross. The worst is knowing your baby threw up, a lot, and not being able to find it...then finding it later, when you're out and about, of course, stuck to the back of your shirt. Why? No really...WHY???

I'm thoroughly convinced that babies are cute and all that because if they weren't, human population would pretty much just die off.

Babies are gross pooping, puking, peeing messes. But they're so freaking cute nobody cares too much. Well that's a lie. Some people care a whole lot...but not me.

I'm almost embarrassed to say that I live for this. The cute, puking, adorable, pooping, peeing, heart melting mess of babies. Almost embarrassed, but not quite.

Messes are Opportunities...

Messes are opportunities for creative expression, for delight and discovery, and for pleasure and celebration. Messes are real. They are how we live. And they can be beautiful.

- Amy George Rush -

This quote fits motherhood so very well. Most days, I walk around in a trance wondering how my house got so messy. Or how the floor is so freaking dirty even though I mopped it 6 minutes ago. Or why there is SO much laundry to fold. 

Then I see how dirty the door handle on the fridge is, and that my child has cut her own hair...and barbies hair, too. I discover water all over the bathroom floor because the boy was filling up water balloons. I look around and see the toys, the dirty cereal bowls, a spit up stain on the floor, coffee spilled in the kitchen, coloring pages all over the kitchen table. 

There is a shark in the kitchen. Barbie is in the toy oven. There's a penguin in the couch cushions. I found a toy car in my coffee. There is marker all over the toddler. Someone sprayed the new TV with a quirt bottle and ruined it.

So on and so forth.

I remember the very first time my Daddy came to see our house when we first moved in, right before Isaiah was born. There was stuff everywhere. It was a disaster. The bed wasn't made, the dishes were not done, there was laundry everywhere, and I needed to vacuum. I apologized for the mess and he says "It's not messy...it's just lived in."

Yes...very very very lived in. 

Without these tiny humans, these beautiful children of mine...none of this would be possible. 

The humor (because if you don't laugh, you will indeed cry) that surrounds my every day life is so overwhelming. So I smile (most of the time...sometimes I cry instead) and ask myself questions like "Why is barbie in the oven...bald? It's like toy story all over again." There are no answers except that these tiny humans are learning to be people. They are growing and changing every day. So very quickly that it takes my breath away if I think about it too much. 

And that, my dear friends, the growing up of children, is so very messy. And therefore; one of the most beautiful happenings of all. 

Now, lets see if I can remember this while scrubbing the poop stains out of the carpet...

I Never Thought...

(You'll probably think this is gross so don't say I didn't warn you)



...I could do it, but I did. I encapsulated my placenta. I took 2 capsules twice a day for 3 weeks, then 2 capsules once a day for 3 weeks. I have a few left. I take a couple whenever I'm feeling particularly moody and emotional.

They're a HUGE help. It might be that whole 'you believed it was going to work, so it did' thing. But I don't really care. ; )

After Jayme was born, postpartum bleeding lasted for over 2 months. To be honest, I never thought it would stop. Horrible. I wanted to die....or at least just sleep until it was all over.

This time around, I wasn't going to 'suffer' for 2 months. No way!!

So, I did something society sees as disgusting and borderline cannibalistic. I consumed my own placenta. And it was totally worth it.

Postpartum bleeding only lasted 3 weeks. I was much much less emotionally unstable than with the other two. My moods were more stable. So on and so forth.

I cleaned it, took the sac off, cubed it, and dehydrated it for 12 hours. I then ground it up in a food processor and used an encapsulation machine I found for cheap. I kinda of felt like a drug pusher while I was filling the capsules with placenta powder. Odd. Anyway, I put the finished capsules in a jar and labeled it Happy Mama Pills. And that's exactly what they are. Happy pills.

Do your research before you freak out. Humans, besides whales, are the ONLY mammal that doesn't consume their placenta. Maybe it's because animals are well...animals, or maybe its because animals are smarter than humans. I don't really know. Regardless, I would recommend this to just about anyone.

P.S. If you're really curious, I took pictures. I'm totally fascinated by it...a little grossed out, but mostly fascinated. I'm pretty sure the general public has no desire to see it but, if you want to see the weirdness that is my placenta, I'll totally share pictures.

Madalynne Danielle "Dani" Grider - A Birth Story

The afternoon of April 12th, the sister and I set out on a "lets induce labor" adventure. These things never ever work, so I didn't expect much. I was just finding myself really just done being pregnant.

We walked the rather steep hill by my parents house that we've all dubbed suicide hill. I skipped and hopped my way there and back. When we got back to the house, I bounced on the trampoline for awhile. Then we made a cake with more chocolate than should be legally allowed. Said cake gave me THE worst indigestion I have ever had. EVER. It was awful. 

I went to bed about 10:00 PM with the usual Braxton Hicks contractions. I remember timing them for a bit because they were more intense than usual. I fell asleep, and then woke up at 4:30 AM to a pretty intense contraction. I got up to use the bathroom, and sat there for a good 5 minutes before I realized that I was still  peeing...or so I thought. Yeah, that's not pee. I told Jon my water broke. We timed contractions to see how far apart they were. 4 to 5 minutes, lasting a good 90 seconds each. 

Deb came to watch the older two and we headed in. We got to the hospital around 6. They hooked me up to monitors, and confirmed that my water had indeed broken. I told them my birth "preferences" (birth plans never go exactly as expected.) and they told me the expectations I needed to meet to be able to go down to the birthing center where we could have a water birth. We called our little birth team. Sarah, my Doula, answered the phone with a very hoarse voice. She was sick. Really sick. She wasn't going to make it. We called Alexis, too. She showed up a half hour later with coffee for sleepy Jon. 

While we were waiting for Madalynne to 'behave' the contractions got much more intense. I remember thinking that I sounded like a cow as I breathed through them, Jon holding me up while I swayed back and forth.

Madalynne's heart rate wasn't reacting how they saw necessary to be off the monitors. She wasn't reacting to contractions. At all. Then, her heart rate shot up, then completely dropped off. A few seconds later it picked back up again. But still, no reaction to contractions. Just a very concerned mama.

After a contraction that lasted more than 2 minutes and peaked for a good 30 seconds, with still no reaction from the babe, I decided it would be best for my peace of mind if we kept her on the monitors. Which meant no getting in the tub, and limited mobility. Birth 'preference' spoiled. I was okay with this. My pain levels were getting a bit out of control due to not being able to move much. I hadn't anticipated this. At all.

Now, lets establish that I had previously declared how humorous it would be if my water broke before I went into labor. Let me tell you, it's not funny. Not at all. It's much much more intense due to there being no fluid to cushion the contractions. Madalynne kept stretching, and moving, and doing that retarded neck/head roll thing she does that made the contractions ridiculously more intense than they would have been other wise. So so not funny. 

I told them I would just stay in Labor and Delivery, instead of moving to the birthing center. I wanted to get settled, and they wouldn't let us move down stairs until her heart rate reacted. So we got settled in our room, as the contractions intensified...more, if that's even possible. I asked for an epidural. 

Later, Alexis told me she was surprised I didn't rip Jon's arms or face off. Apparently, I was terrifying. 

After a miserable 20 minutes of trying to get the epidural in, the poor anesthesiologist finally got it set. He was just as frustrated as I was.

And, finally, sweet relief. The nurse checked me, told me I was 6 cm. She brought me jello, a Popsicle, and juice. We rested for awhile. 

I heard the monitors beeping slow quite a bit. Jon walked over and looked at it with a funny look on his face. The nurse came in and made the same face. Greeeeat. 

She says "Lets check you again.....oh wow. Yeah, this baby is coming now!" Apparently, she was already in the birth canal, and her heart rate had dropped pretty significantly. 

They got everything ready. I pushed 4 times, and baby girl was born into her daddy's hands at 11:51 AM on April 13th. He placed her on my chest, and we all cried...except for Madalynne. She just smiled and smiled...and then nursed for literally 2 hours. She weighed 7 pounds and 8 ounces, and was 21 inches long.

Perfection.

All the nurses we had were absolutely wonderful. The Midwives were amazing. My little birth team was incredible. I wouldn't change a thing.

As for her name. Most of you know she's named after my brother, Daniel. Danielle didn't seem to fit as a first name, but both Jon and I LOVE Madalynne. So Madalynne Danielle.

We were debating nicknames, since several people have already started to call her Maddie. Every time I hear "Maddie" I think of someone with matted hair. I don't know why. Anyway, We thought about several nicknames. All of them were kind of a stretch, and none of them seemed to fit her very well.

Then Alexis suggested Dani. Since she's named after Daniel, I found this pretty appropriate. Also, she looks like a "Dani" to me.

So if any of you feel the need to call her something besides Madalynne, please feel free to call her Dani, : )

And Then There Were Three...

The first month of being a mom of three has proven itself emotional, fulfilling, stressful, amazing, beautiful, frustrating, exhausting, and last but not least, pretty darn perfect.

Sleepless nights have left me tearful, although not sad.

Time with the older two is more precious than ever.

My husband has blessed me in ways I never thought possible. He provides for me in ways I didn't realize that I even needed.

Housework has, somewhat, fallen to the back burner. Bookkeeping and data entry isn't getting done as soon as before. And dinner is rarely planned, usually consisting of last minute brilliance.

Some days, I don't get dressed, I don't put any make up on, and I don't do my hair.

Some days we're lucky I brush my teeth, and put deodorant on.

And I'm realizing that, that is most definitely OK.

These days are short lived. Knowing this makes me a bit sad...and a bit relieved. It feels balanced.

As the routine of having 3 gets a little more solid, I'll be writing more. There is so much I want to write about, yet I'm struggling to find the time.

Just So Everyone Knows...

...I have an amazing husband. He has been getting up with the kids, getting them breakfast, and making coffee just so I can get a few extra minutes of shut eye. He has put up with my mood swings, my unfiltered comments about anything and everything, sleepless night, thanks to my tossing and turning, and so many other things that would just take too long to list. I'm surprised he hasn't flown the coop, some days. And let me tell you...there is just about nothing hotter than a guy that mops and does dishes. Except for a man that doesn't mind painting my toenails, because it's horribly uncomfortable for me to do it myself.

I love this man of mine.

In other news; baby girl is still cooking...thankfully. In exactly one week, she'll be allowed to come out. Not that I could really make her stay in there. Just to be clear, I'm not completely crazy. (Hold all arguments on that one, please.)

I'm getting closer and closer to everything being done and ready for Madalynne. You know...since she'll totally notice if the carpets aren't clean. Heh.

Hospital registration is done. I picked up the car seat. All the baby clothes have been washed. The bassinet is all set up and ready. The hospital bags are packed. Mostly. There are a few freezer meals prepared. I've had a pedicure and a manicure (YAY!!).

Now for a few more weeks...more or less, left to be a mommy of just two.

34 Weeks

35.5 Weeks. 

Belly Henna!! 

To Have A Baby

As a woman nears the end of pregnancy, one of the most frequently asked questions is "what's your birth plan?"

Well, mine is to have a baby. What's yours??

Most of you probably know that Isaiah's labor and delivery was not at all what we planned for. We planned for a home birth with a midwife, a doula, and a few close friends. I wanted a water birth. I wanted to be at home.

After nearly 30 hours of intense labor with very little progress, my labor stalled. They couldn't break my water, I was throwing up, my blood pressure was going up, and our birth team, and Jon and I were completely worn out.

We ended up at the hospital. After 8 hours, an epidural, pitocin, 2 and a half hours of pushing, and, only by a miracle, dodging a c-section, our beautiful baby boy was finally born.

I wasn't mad, irritated, or upset with my birth plan 'failing'. I know it happened how it happened for a reason. Isaiah is alive. I am alive. That's the goal we were working towards. Even if we didn't get there how we thought we would. We got there.

With Jayme we planned a hospital birth with really no expectations. Early labor was intense and exhausting. Active labor was short. They wanted to monitor the baby because she was a bit early. I couldn't stand sitting still for this. So another epidural...but this one didn't work. Not the worst pain I've ever experienced but it definitely wasn't a picnic. I pushed 3 times, and had a teeny tiny baby in my arms.

This time around, the question has started popping up again.

Ideally, I'd love a water birth with no pain medications. However, sometimes things don't go how we plan for them to or how we think they will.

So my birth plan is only this. To have a baby. Madalynne Danielle will be here soon. She'll be in my arms, and my heart will get that 'I love you so much my heart might actually explode' feeling all over again. She'll be perfect and lovely and exactly as she is supposed to be.

And I will have had a baby. Wither completely natural, intervened by medication, or if I have a c-section. I will have had a baby.

Temper Tantrum

Disclaimer; this post is going to sound selfish, harsh, and pretty much horrible. Excuse my temper tantrum.

Sometimes is thoroughly amazes me how when your life is hitting the rocks, everything is going wrong, and pretty much just sucking, people freaking fly the coop. They leave...but not before causing even more damage. And then when things are looking up, and your life is overflowing with blessings, excitement and changes, they suddenly pop back in, expecting to be welcomed back with forgiveness and open arms. Pouring out apologies, and "I miss you" in an attempt to repair the damage they've done.

I'm sorry...maybe it's just me, but if you were really sorry, and if you really cared, you would have apologized oh, I don't know...like a couple years ago.

So pardon me, if I'm not all giddy with excitement with the thought of having them back in my life. Like, I don't think so. My wounds from the last time have scarred up and have started to fade away. I'm not interested in having that relationship back. I'd rather swallow hot coals, at this point. My family has been burned a few too many times, and I'm not interested in opening the door up for another chance at being hurt by the same person...again. Noooo, thank you.

I don't have enough grace for that right now. And to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I WANT the grace for that...ever. Maybe I'm turning into a callous person, or maybe I'm just being smart about it. I'm not really sure.

I believe in second chances, and forgiveness. But I don't believe in putting my emotional well being, my family, and my pretty chill, mostly stress free life on the line to renew a relationship that never benefited me, before.

Now, before you I go further, I would like to say that I have indeed forgiven, and I'm not angry. However, I'm having a hard time knowing if I should open this door back up. Be cordial and sweet, blah blah blah...and just not bring the relationship back to what it was? Or do I completely slam the door shut? Lock it and throw the key away.

I've never thought of myself as a mean person. But I also don't put up with bull crap. I don't want or need any drama in my life. My time and energy is much better directed to my children, and to bettering myself and the relationships that benefit me on the daily. This feels a bit selfish. So maybe, I need to change my attitude.

And I know that I've been hypocritical in how I handle relationships of my own. It's sometimes much easier to just throw in the towel, then trying to fix things.

For now, I just need to pray, and keep my mouth shut so I don't say anything I'd regret. Making a hasty reply has never been a wise choice in the past, so I'm sure it wouldn't be right now, either.

Regardless, I'm not deciding yet. I haven't made a decision, and I don't feel the need to, yet. It feels like God will show me, either way. I'll know, without a doubt, what I'm supposed to do.

Temper Tantrum over.

I Did WHAT??

While explaining to my midwife why walking, sitting, driving, moving, and of course, trying very carefully to get on the exam table was so immensely painful, she made a few concerned noises, and a few 'why in the world would you do that???' faces.

After the exam she told me she's pretty sure I dislocated my pelvis.

I'm sorry. What???

Well that sure explains a lot.

No freaking wonder I want to saw off the lower half of my body.

I knew all this swelling, bruising and down right excruciating pain couldn't be normal. They say you forget all the pregnancy pains and what not after the baby is born, but I'm beyond sure THIS pain didn't happen during my other pregnancies.

I mean...I think I'll be fine for labor and delivery, but can I have that epidural for the remainder of my pregnancy?? PLEASE?!?!

If narcotics were a wise choice....well, I'd be all over that one. But they aren't, so here we sit. In pain...or discomfortableness (whatever). Debating on wither I should take a heat pack, or an ice pack to bed.

Sweet cheeses.

My so sweet midwife suggested I try a massage, and if that doesn't help put things back where they should be, I should go see a chiropractor. And for the love of all things, no heavy lifting (including housework), lots of mild stretching, plenty of rest, and Tylenol if needed. Well crap. Two children, 5 and under, and I'm supposed to take it easy? Shoulda been a comedian. Heh.

You mean to tell me, that the last 2 months of pregnancy aren't going to be a living hell?? There's relief for this nonsense? Yeeeah, buddy!!

So, Saturday I have a massage scheduled. I'm beyond excited....not that I have such a painful reason to receive a massage. But excited that my sore tired body has some relief in the near future. At least temporary relief.

Otherwise, Madalynne is doing great! She's head down, still, with her back to my left side and her feet jabbed into my right ribs.

When she stretches out, we can distinctively distinguish the length of her oh so tiny feet. Makes my heart happy. And her feet are ticklish...that or she just really hates them being touched.

She moves the most when I'm doing dishes. Favorite. :)

I was lucky enough to be able to do a little shopping, today. I'm much more comfortable (and okay with being pregnant for, quite possibly, 2 more months) with some clothes that fit better. So so lovely.

And, I'm pretty sure I might be breaking out the flip flops for spring!!

Are We There Yet?

For some reason, the third trimester of this third pregnancy has proven itself very...'discomfortable.' Or for all those pessimist out there...down right painful. And this past week has presented it's very own set of challenges. Between heartburn, restless legs, cramps, returned nausea, and just general discomfort from my uh...expanding girth, well, I'm exhausted. I don't know how these women who have like 53 (slight exaggeration)  kids handle the last trimester. Feeling worn out and tired, I was beginning to wonder how I was going to make it through the rest of this pregnancy without losing my mind.

Then Friday night happened. And now, I have no idea how we're going to make it through with any shred of sanity left.

Jayme comes out of the bathroom and says "Mom, the toilet overflowed all by itself!!" Oooh, ALL by itself? Right. So, I went to investigate the damage.

And lets note that Jon was not yet home from work.

From the hallway, I could tell the carpet was wet. As I got closer, I heard dripping noises. Upon turning the corner I saw that the ENTIRE bathroom was an inch deep with water, it was leaking into the hallway and down the heater vent. Sigh. After using EVERY SINGLE towel in the house, and some blankets to soak up what I could, I put them all in a 20 gallon tub we use for Jayme's toys. I then decided to carry said tub to the washing machine. I was fine until I set it down. Something somewhere in my pelvis region, did this nauseating pop and snap thing. Blinding pain followed. I'm a little surprised I didn't just pass out.

After the initial shock of the pain wore off, I grabbed the mop to see what I could do about the rest of the water. You can't just leave standing water in the heating vents. Forgetting, of course, that we had a perfectly functional wet vac in the other bathroom. So 20 gallons of shoving the mop down the heater vents and ringing it out later, Jon is finally home, and my face has reached a whole new level of puffy/swollen from crying. Being the hero he is, he grabbed the wet vac, and finished cleaning up. Which might have made me cry a bit harder because I could have saved myself quite a bit of work...and pain if I had realized the wet vac was available.

Fail. Just fail.

So I grabbed a hot pack and fused my butt to my bed. By about 3 AM, I was too 'discomfortable' to sleep any longer. I tried sleeping on the couch. That didn't go well. At all. It's not nearly as painful this morning, as long as I don't move too fast, or try to put pants on by myself.

During Isaiah's birthday party, last night, I sat down next to my Dad for a minute. I was gonna get up but my body kinda just said no. I told Dad I'm insanely frustrated with my body. I'm suddenly incapable of things that I used to do, and that I NEED to do every day. It's making me a bit crazy. After the party, Peter, Deb, and Sara stayed to help Jon clean up the kitchen. I felt ridiculous not being able to clean my house without excruciating pain. I am, however, incredibly grateful for all the help we've received.

From all the research I've done, there isn't a whole lot I can do about it, until after the baby is born. Squatting helps ease the pain for a little bit. Sitting on my yoga ball helps a bit, too. But only for a little while. I'll take what I can get at this point.

The next few weeks are going to involve me waddling around, sitting in strange positions, with an ice pack or a hot pack pressed to 'undercarriage.'

Regardless of all the discomforts, aches, pains, and blah blah blah...I know Madalynne needs to 'cook' for eh...5 more weeks or so. Since my body isn't being quite as gracious as it was during other pregnancies, I'm a bit concerned she might try to come too early. We had to have a very serious talk with her about her not coming out until at least the 2nd of April,

Reasoning; 3 weeks early is okay...I mean, Jayme turned out alright, didn't she? (please hold all arguments...) Also, an April 1st baby? That's just mean. So April 2nd...or later. Please, body. Contain this child until then.

Now, we'd been sorta subconsciously planning for the 8th of April. Those of you that know me best, know why. But due to other circumstances, April 8th might not be the best day...not that I really want it actually planned. I'd like for my body to do this all on it's own. Please and Thank you.

Anyway...April 8th. A few months ago, a lady at a job site Jon visits frequently, handed him a job application.  He brought it home, filled it out and sent it in. Then we waited. He eventually got an interview which lasted several hours and was spent with several different people he would be working with if he got the job. Then we waited some more. And waited and waited and well...waited. Between the holidays, and other things their company was dealing with it took awhile for them to get back to us. When he finally got a call back from their corporate people, they were more than thrilled with his application, experience, so on and so forth.

So, 2 weeks ago, he accepted the job offer to be the IT Manager for Eldorado Hotel and Spa in Santa Fe, making significantly more than he does now, with a much more predictable schedule.

I'm incredibly grateful for all the opportunities his current place of employment has provided him with. Without all the training and experience, this new opportunity wouldn't be available. I can't even begin to explain how incredibly proud I am of him! He works so hard to provide for us. I'm feeling particularly amazed at all the blessings that have come our way.

April 8th is his current start date. Assuming miss Madalynne doesn't make her grand entrance that day.

31 Weeks

32 weeks

The Big Three Zero

We've reached the big three zero, folks. 10 to 12 more weeks...at the very most!! before miss Madalynne makes her grand entrance. We're thinking (or perhaps, hoping) it'll be more like 7ish weeks until she's here.

We had a baby check up, today. She's growing well, although, the mama hasn't gained any weight since the last appointment. It certainly feels like I've gained about 75 pounds (all in my ankles) since the last appointment.

I mostly waddle, but only because it feels like someone took a jackhammer to my pelvis. (Sorry for the graphic description.) My belly button has reached a whole new level of strange. My legs are sprouting new spider veins. My ribs are protesting. And my lungs are ticked about their new constricted space. And...the nausea is back. The lovely Braxton Hicks contractions have a reached a state of painfulness. It makes me excited but anxious at the same time. If we can make it 6 more weeks, I'll relax a little. Stay put, little princess. You need to cook longer!!

Also, someone asked me if I'm sure I'm not having twins. I most certainly, am not. Thank you for your concern.

30 weeks

Just wait, my poor, swollen body. It gets worse.

The entire pregnancy has, suddenly, caught up with me. I've finally started associating all this discomfort with pregnancy. It's odd. And I'm tired. Like really tired. This morning, all I had to do to want a nap was take a shower and get dressed.

Just a small disclaimer; I truly love being pregnant. It is entirely amazing to me. But this week....I am just tired. Previously mentioned.

Isaiah asked if we could go to the zoo. Before I could respond, Jayme says "Uh no...because if we walk at the zoo Madalynne would FALL OUT!" She's kinda right....sorry, Isaiah.

Madalynne is head down. Woot!! Already ready for lift off...or something.

I had a dream, the other night, that I was in a birthing tub. I looked down and saw her little blonde haired blue eyed beautiful-ness staring at me with a look that said "Ookay, Mom...you can finish pushing me out now...like right now. Yeah, thanks." Then a couple nights later I dreamed that she was breech so they did a c-section. The pulled her out to discover that she was a he. He was screaming, but looked exactly like the baby in my first dream. But since she was a he, the Dr's stuck him back in, sewed me up and said "Oh, well just try for a girl tomorrow." Whaaaat the heck.

I've started going through baby girl newborn clothes. They're so adorable!! And I found some left over newborn diapers. So so tiny!!

This weekend, I plan to wash, fold, and organize baby clothes. Then maybe next weekend, we'll get the crib put together. I feel like it's time I should pack my hospital bag, but that's a few weeks off, I think.

In other news; I'm pretty sure Jayme is finished with diapers!! Sunday night, while we were getting ready for bed, she tells me "I don't want to wear a diaper, tonight." Huh...ookay. So we put a couple blankets under her to protect her mattress and called it good. She hasn't used a diaper since and she hasn't had any accidents! Sweeeeet!!

Isaiah has finished his preschool workbooks. His writing skills, and his math smarts are pretty much just amazing to me. He's reading simple words really well. Some tougher words, he's figuring out, too. He'll see words while we're out and about and ask me what they mean. It's encouraging that he's absorbing things that I'm teaching him. Some days, it feels so entirely unproductive and wasteful. Then he does something amazing and I realize that the consistence and persistence is paying off.

He is also quite the gentleman. This morning, we were getting ready to leave. I sent them out to the car while I grabbed a few things. When I went outside, Isaiah had opened my car door. So sweet. I'm having a bit of an emotional battle with the fact that he's turning 5 next week....and the fact that Jayme turned 3 last month. What the heck is happening to my babies? Stop it, kids! Just stop it!

That's all for now. It's past my bedtime.  ^_^

Backhanded by the Third Trimester

I'm sorry....what??

3rd trimester??

Already??

It can't be!

I'm not ready for this!!!

Didn't I just get a positive pregnancy test like a week ago?

Noo, more like months ago. Time is going by much too quickly for my liking, right now.

Yes, we are, apparently, in the final trimester of pregnancy.

It really does feel like the 3rd trimester has, pretty much, just slapped me in the face. All I want to do is sleep and eat.

Since my last post, a lot has happened. Or at least it feels like it.

We've dealt with new life. We've dealt with death. We've dealt with birthdays. We've dealt with road trips, heart break, ice storms, cankles, 'cabbage patch doll' like feet, calves the size of...well...lets not talk about how big they got during a 27 hour car ride. There were tears, and maybe some laughs just because I was so blasted exhausted, and perplexed.

About 3 weeks ago, we found out Grandpa was really sick. He was acting very out of character, being combative with the staff of the rehab center he lived in. He was refusing his meds, refusing his food, and running the hallways naked...VERY out of character for this sweet, loving, gentle man.

They told us his kidneys were failing, his blood sugar was critically high, his intestines were dying. The list when on. By that Friday he hadn't improved any at all. He was in a Critical Care Unit in Martinsville, VA. He was heavily sedated, because he kept ripping his IV's out. He was on a respirator because his breathing was so labored. He was on dialysis to try and give his kidneys a chance. By that Sunday, his liver was also failing. He passed away the following Saturday, after we decided to remove all life sustaining treatment. More on this in a different post. I was okay when we first heard about his death, but now if I try to write about any of it, I will cry...again. So, later.

The Friday afternoon that Grandpa started dialysis, Deborah and I decided we were going to make the 1700 mile drive to see him one last time and say our goodbyes. We were on the road by 9:00 PM. The ride out went rather smoothly. I wasn't uncomfortable in the car...much, anyway. We made the dizzying trip down Virginia highways, making it to our hotel in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

We checked in, and carried all our stuff to our room. I peeled my my socks and pants, and discovered that my feet, ankles, legs, and knees were not my own. Shocked and perplexed I asked Deb if I was seeing things or if my legs really were twice their normal size. They were indeed. Fluid filled, swollen, purple, tingly nightmare.

With my other two pregnancies, I never had any swelling. At all. The nurses in labor and delivery joked that they were going to take pictures of my ankles because they were so beautiful.

I know, all pregnancies are different. But still, I was startled....and terrified.

When we went to visit Grandma in the rehab center, one of the nurses checked my blood pressure. It was super high compared to my normal, but not dangerously high. (More on the visit with Grandma later...again, I'm not emotionally stable right now.)

By the time we got home, early the next Thursday morning, my blood pressure was back to normal. My feet and legs, however, kept their swollen state for a few days. They're fine now as long as I don't wear shoes for more than like 3 hours.

My footwear of choice are my pink and white stripped flip flop slippers. It will probably stay that way for the next 3 months...or so.

Anyway, the 3rd trimester is here. Baby shower plans are in full swing. All I want to do is eat and sleep, previously mentioned, I believe. The numbers on the scale are climbing. My belly button has officially popped out.

I guess my theory of the baby being ready to come out when the belly button pops is now invalid. Bummer.

Isaiah asked me why it's taking so long for the baby to come out. He wants to hold her. : )

Jayme says we're going to call her Melon. I said we'll have to wait and see how big her head is first.

We have a check up on Wednesday. I'm curious to know if I passed my glucose test. I'm nervous about it this time, for some reason.

My wedding ring is stored safely in it's box because it no longer fits. My engagement ring still fits...only because it has a thinner band than the wedding ring. Plus, my hand feels kinda naked without it.

Here are some pictures documenting the growth of The Belly. ; )

27 Weeks

28 Weeks. (I feel like a cow, this week)

A Baby Update & A Few Funnies

A Baby Update

We had a baby check up, today! She is growing well, apparently, due to a very substantial placenta. My midwife, Laurie, says the reason Madalynne is measuring big is because she has a super great blood supply.

She said that most women either have a posterior placenta, or an anterior placenta. Mine is both. She said it's measuring well within acceptable ranges, so to not worry.

I was unreasonably excited about this news. I don't know why.

Even though I nearly stroke out every time I weigh myself, my weight gain is right on track...so they say.

3 weeks from today, the 3rd Trimester will begin. I can't believe it! This pregnancy is going by rather quickly, and I'm not sure that I'm okay with it. Regardless of all the pregnancy aches and pains, I truly love being pregnant. Nothing strikes my fancy quite like having a tiny human perform his or her acrobatics in my womb. I know...it's a bit sappy. And by 37 weeks, I'm DONE! But we're in that super happy 'baby moves all the time, responding to voices and sounds' phase. I LOVE IT!

Speaking of aches and pains...I've been running this whole pregnancy. Mostly without any issues. Yesterday, I barely made it a 1/4 mile before my uterus was so pissed I had to stop and sit down. I nearly burst into tears.  My running shoes have officially been retired until after this pregnancy is over. I'm a bit sad, but I know it's for the best. Goodbye for now, old friend. Yoga will have to do for now. Don't get me wrong. Yoga is pretty great, too. Running has just been my go to exercise/'stress reducer' for quite some time.

25 Weeks

A Few Funnies

Jon stopped by on his way to work, yesterday, to pick up a few more tools he needed. He was getting ready to head out the door when Jayme yelled for him. "Dadddddy!!! Don't leave, yet! (and in her best singing voice) I neeeeed a kiiiiiiiss!" He followed her voice to the bathroom. She says "Not yet! Hold on! I'm pooping!!"

I almost want to apologize because so many of my stories involve pooping...but uh, they wouldn't be funny without the pooping.

I really thought I had a few more funny happenings to share, but my brain is rebelling once again. I'm quite sure there are more...maybe I'll think of them later.

Some Baby Love

For those of you who missed the announcement via Facebook, Baby #3 is a girl! 

Jayme was right about that one! ;) However, she was a little upset when she learned baby girl's name would not be Princess, but instead Madalynne Danielle. She says that Madalynne is too hard to say. We'll stay clear of the nickname 'Maddie'...it's much too close to nicknames of other family members. It's best to avoid any confusion. We shall see what nicknames stick when little miss makes her big entrance. 

It's beginning to look like 'morning sickness' will just be a sporadic happening through this entire pregnancy. As long as I don't mix bananas and peanut butter, and as long as I don't eat raw tomatoes we're mostly okay. 

Exhaustion is setting in again, even though we're still a few weeks away from the 3rd Trimester. I'd be super happy going to bed at 6:30 most nights. Daily nap time will start happening for this mama very very soon! 

Last night was the first night I had a hard time getting comfortable. I guess it's time to bring out my pal, the body pillow. And I'm gonna have to start sleeping reclined soon....or just quit eating after 4:00 PM. Freaking heart burn. 

My feet cramp if I'm on them too much, but can't say I blame them. Foot cramps suck. That is all.

One morning, a couple weeks ago, Isaiah tells me "Mom! Look! Your belly is growing up!!" 

Thanks, kid. I hadn't noticed. ;)

22 Weeks

23 Weeks

24 Weeks

Madalynne - 24 Weeks

In other news; I have a new nephew!! That's right! My pretty baby sister is a mama! On Saturday the 29th of December at 4:41 AM, sweet Zachary Parker made his grand entrance. He's quite the looker, and he has his Auntie wrapped around his tiny finger, already.