Which is probably not so new to anyone who reads this blog... Eh, c'est la vie.
We're pregnant again!
Yup, you read me right. #2 is already here. Turns out that epic Thanksgiving weekend was the trigger for my morning sickness. After everyone else had recovered and a week later I was still sick, I started to get suspicious.
We'll find out what we're having around Piglet's birthday.
Poor Piglet. He'll never know what it was like to be the only child. At least sharing won't be as much of a problem.
Maybe.
As I sit here thinking about what on earth our new baby will be like and which personality will fit it from the Wood, I realize I gave Piglet the wrong name. He's nothing like Piglet.
At all.
He's more like Tigger, or Roo (but I'm Roo, and I'm not giving that up); he's giggly and gregarious hard to contain. So yeah. Tigger.
I'll think about it.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
On Sappiness
So, I said I'd do the birth story, and I will. Especially since I just took a quick stroll down memory lane and read his happy 6 month post and saw the pictures of my little baby and saw how much my little baby isn't such a little baby anymore (sob!).
It was to be a lovely, sunny Tuesday, and I'd been up since 2 (because that's how pregnant Roo rolls). Around 3ish I started to feel pressure pretty regularly and was wondering if I was finally feeling those Braxton-Hicks monstrosities I'd kept hearing about. It's been a long time so I'm not entirely clear on the timeline, but I texted my mom around the time she'd be getting up and going to work and told her. She got all kinds of excited, absolutely forbad that I go into labor a week early! and generally celebrated with me in the possibility of all this nonsense being over.
I warned Pooh when he got up to get ready for work that I'd be going to the hospital to let them peek at me and send me home like the loony I am. We agreed he should go ahead on to work since there was likely nothing to worry about. However, by 630-7 it became clear that I would not be able to wait as long as I'd hoped and I called up my good friend and volunteer, Natalia, to come get me. Bless her heart, she hustled her darling 9 month old girl into the car and took me to the hospital where I was entrusted to a nursing student.
A nursing student. Let's ponder that a moment, shall we?
730am I'm being monitored. I keep being monitored until around 1030 when the sweet girl comes in with that IV on wheels thingy and starts poking me and when I ask what on earth is going on she tells me I'm being admitted.
Uh, ok.
Soon afterward I go ahead and get an epidural because I'm nowhere near ready to start pushing and I'm so tired! I also alert the masses (aka my family) and dear Natalia is still there! I will never be able to repay her for that. She stayed the whole day (we watched "Dogs 101" and took a lovely collective nap) until Pooh was finally able to get away from work (roughly 1-2pm) and then a little extra, only leaving when her husby would get home and need a quick bite before rushing off to class. Bless you, girl.
Luckily for me, my mom was able to get a flight out that afternoon and she showed up just in time! Like, the last hour of pushing. And boy, am I glad she did! My new nurse (they "upgraded" me once they admitted me) was also a sweet, dear girl, but her counting was driving me insane!!
Sample: "1... 2... 3... 4... 5... You're doing so great! Keep going!... 6... 7... 8..."
If you don't know what's wrong with this, you've likely never been in labor nor in a band.
So, my mother who not only had gone through labor and been in band, she'd also been in the Army! So counting is easy-peasy to her. And she did it well. Bless you, mother.
So, with mother and husband in the delivery room, sister and brother-in-law (who brought mom down from the airport) in the waiting room, at 724pm, our dear Piglet James came protesting into the world. He hasn't really stopped protesting since.
He is my favorite little monster/stinker/"Toots McGee" in the whole world and I love him dearly. He was worth all the hours of no sleeping.
Not so sure about the current hours, though.
It was to be a lovely, sunny Tuesday, and I'd been up since 2 (because that's how pregnant Roo rolls). Around 3ish I started to feel pressure pretty regularly and was wondering if I was finally feeling those Braxton-Hicks monstrosities I'd kept hearing about. It's been a long time so I'm not entirely clear on the timeline, but I texted my mom around the time she'd be getting up and going to work and told her. She got all kinds of excited, absolutely forbad that I go into labor a week early! and generally celebrated with me in the possibility of all this nonsense being over.
I warned Pooh when he got up to get ready for work that I'd be going to the hospital to let them peek at me and send me home like the loony I am. We agreed he should go ahead on to work since there was likely nothing to worry about. However, by 630-7 it became clear that I would not be able to wait as long as I'd hoped and I called up my good friend and volunteer, Natalia, to come get me. Bless her heart, she hustled her darling 9 month old girl into the car and took me to the hospital where I was entrusted to a nursing student.
A nursing student. Let's ponder that a moment, shall we?
730am I'm being monitored. I keep being monitored until around 1030 when the sweet girl comes in with that IV on wheels thingy and starts poking me and when I ask what on earth is going on she tells me I'm being admitted.
Uh, ok.
Soon afterward I go ahead and get an epidural because I'm nowhere near ready to start pushing and I'm so tired! I also alert the masses (aka my family) and dear Natalia is still there! I will never be able to repay her for that. She stayed the whole day (we watched "Dogs 101" and took a lovely collective nap) until Pooh was finally able to get away from work (roughly 1-2pm) and then a little extra, only leaving when her husby would get home and need a quick bite before rushing off to class. Bless you, girl.
Luckily for me, my mom was able to get a flight out that afternoon and she showed up just in time! Like, the last hour of pushing. And boy, am I glad she did! My new nurse (they "upgraded" me once they admitted me) was also a sweet, dear girl, but her counting was driving me insane!!
Sample: "1... 2... 3... 4... 5... You're doing so great! Keep going!... 6... 7... 8..."
If you don't know what's wrong with this, you've likely never been in labor nor in a band.
So, my mother who not only had gone through labor and been in band, she'd also been in the Army! So counting is easy-peasy to her. And she did it well. Bless you, mother.
So, with mother and husband in the delivery room, sister and brother-in-law (who brought mom down from the airport) in the waiting room, at 724pm, our dear Piglet James came protesting into the world. He hasn't really stopped protesting since.
He is my favorite little monster/stinker/"Toots McGee" in the whole world and I love him dearly. He was worth all the hours of no sleeping.
Not so sure about the current hours, though.
Been A Long Time...
That applies to so many things at the moment. Like, it's been a long time since my last post. Been a long time since I took any pictures, mostly because it's been a long time since I did any laundry so there's clean laundry strewn around and heaps of dirty in strategic locales. Been a long time since I should've posted Piglet's birth story, so I think I'll do that here in a moment, assuming he's still asleep in the next 5 or so minutes.
So basically, this post was just to remind everyone I'm alive and let y'all know everyone survived Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year to boot.
Now the title applies to when this post was written. Sheesh.
So basically, this post was just to remind everyone I'm alive and let y'all know everyone survived Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year to boot.
Now the title applies to when this post was written. Sheesh.
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