As 39 eclipses in a Full Term window blaze of glory (and unseasonably warm weather), doors stay hinged while evenings unhinge and "it would figure" factors fret on laborious loomings. Nephews zip-line back to battles with a steely Cross-fit cross-stitch father. Monkey madness as little watermelons flail and sock-monkey bring cozy quilted goodness from afar. And the final countdown unsteadily trembles through a murky mire of uncertain maybes with succulent sweetness for every "last" that precedes the unknown future. And cake. Chocolate. Smooshy ooey gooey chococolostrocake for the big birthdays to come!
Having My (lactation?) Cake and Eating it Too on Thursday
Well we've inched up to a 3.7% probability of spontaneous labor. As if - I am so not the spontaneous type... except when I am... and usually chocolate cake is involved...
Well we've inched up to a 3.7% probability of spontaneous labor. As if - I am so not the spontaneous type... except when I am... and usually chocolate cake is involved...
... is chocolate cake involved? Can I have some birthday cake to celebrate my kiddo's zeroeth birthday? Will somebody fetch me a nice thimble of post-partum champagne and a slice of chocolate cake? We can sing to her if she'd like. I'm not sharing the cake with her. At least not before processing it through some very complicated biological means and turning it into colostrucake (mmmmm mmmm, Lady Gaga's next commercial venture? Great for the lactose intolerant!)
Well that derailed quickly!
That's me again on my first birthday. As you can see, I've always been a dainty little one with fastidiously healthy dietary ways. All I can say is I'm glad that I apparently was prevented from eating the cake with the candle still on it. But I worry for that dress. Some stains just don't come out.
Yesterday gave me a titillating taste of Pacific Northwest autumn. Quite surreal to go from a scorchingly sunny upper eighties to pluvial barely-60 awash in cinereous cumuli. But oh so pleasant. As it would turn out, I am most comfortable donning a tank top in a cozy "room temperature" of roughly 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Anything warmer - say like being at a restaurant during date night - and my ears will still flush up with magma. But at least the flush-face was quelled with some open windows, splashes of cold water, and minimal clothing for the remainder of the otherwise lovely evening.
Really, I hope I can go back to "always a little cold" after this birthing thing. I miss my pink flannel robe and heated slippers! In the meanwhile, I'll just appreciate those occasionally cool days and praise all powers that be and that are not for the existence of air conditioners.
Like the one still on full power in my office right now! Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be working right up until I go into labor. These machines are miraculous.
Happy Thursday all. May all chocolate cake smoosh well into your eager maws!
Well that derailed quickly!
That's me again on my first birthday. As you can see, I've always been a dainty little one with fastidiously healthy dietary ways. All I can say is I'm glad that I apparently was prevented from eating the cake with the candle still on it. But I worry for that dress. Some stains just don't come out.
Yesterday gave me a titillating taste of Pacific Northwest autumn. Quite surreal to go from a scorchingly sunny upper eighties to pluvial barely-60 awash in cinereous cumuli. But oh so pleasant. As it would turn out, I am most comfortable donning a tank top in a cozy "room temperature" of roughly 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Anything warmer - say like being at a restaurant during date night - and my ears will still flush up with magma. But at least the flush-face was quelled with some open windows, splashes of cold water, and minimal clothing for the remainder of the otherwise lovely evening.
Really, I hope I can go back to "always a little cold" after this birthing thing. I miss my pink flannel robe and heated slippers! In the meanwhile, I'll just appreciate those occasionally cool days and praise all powers that be and that are not for the existence of air conditioners.
Like the one still on full power in my office right now! Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be working right up until I go into labor. These machines are miraculous.
Happy Thursday all. May all chocolate cake smoosh well into your eager maws!
March of the Mini-Watermelon Full-Figured Termier Than ACOG Term Today
I'm at 39 weeks today, which is a window within a window within a window. According to ACOG (American Cheese Oregano and Gorgonzola and/or American Congress of Obstetrics and Gynocology), the optimal window for "full term" is now considered to be between 39 weeks and 41 weeks, 6 days. I'm also March of Dimes approved to give birth to this baby. By their reckoning the baby has developed her crucial organs, has a much bigger head than earlier (poor mommy's nether bits), will likely have significantly lower risk of health problems down the road, will have fewer speech or hearing problems, and will be able to regulate her body temperature better than if I'd tried to squirt out the little squirt earlier. Oh and she should be able to feed like a superstar. All because she's pretty darned comfortable where she is right now and not feeling the slightest bit rushed.
So, go baby! Today, she is the size of a mini-watermelon and I'm the size of a person who swallowed a watermelon whole and is now digesting it like a snake. More or less.
I'm at 39 weeks today, which is a window within a window within a window. According to ACOG (American Cheese Oregano and Gorgonzola and/or American Congress of Obstetrics and Gynocology), the optimal window for "full term" is now considered to be between 39 weeks and 41 weeks, 6 days. I'm also March of Dimes approved to give birth to this baby. By their reckoning the baby has developed her crucial organs, has a much bigger head than earlier (poor mommy's nether bits), will likely have significantly lower risk of health problems down the road, will have fewer speech or hearing problems, and will be able to regulate her body temperature better than if I'd tried to squirt out the little squirt earlier. Oh and she should be able to feed like a superstar. All because she's pretty darned comfortable where she is right now and not feeling the slightest bit rushed.
So, go baby! Today, she is the size of a mini-watermelon and I'm the size of a person who swallowed a watermelon whole and is now digesting it like a snake. More or less.
The rest is kind of same old same old - be ever vigilant for signs labor. But realize it'll probably be false labor the first several times. Thank god for Facebook forums. The number of questions women have asked on my Bellingham-Bellies-Summer-2015 group indicates what I keep protesting is accurate: labor isn't necessarily obvious... until it is. But for hours to days before the big moment, you're going to be plagued with doubts. That is unless you're one of those exceptional few who have the advantage of both hindsight and very clear physical signals. This does not appear to be the norm, so enjoy it if you are.
And I'm on it. I'm looking. Mostly what I see are baby knees protruding out of my belly. And while I am starting to have more recognizable contractions, these are typically drowned out by the "holy crap, little creature just rammed her entire head into my pelvic area and my bladder may have just officially receded into my abdomen!" With a side of "oh god, there snaps another ligament!" if I move too quickly.
My exam this morning was uneventful. Still "starting to open" and healthy, but otherwise nothing looming. No "oh my lord, I see the baby's head, get this lady into the birthing center" or anything like that. She is - as is pretty obvious to me - nice and low and ready to go... when she decides the timing is right. In the meantime, I'm reassured that they don't press induction. After 41 weeks, they run a non-stress test to make sure things are going ok and measure fluids. Then it's kind of up to how much longer the pregnancy can sustain the baby's health. And eventually how desperate I am to get the little belly beastie out of me. But I'm pretty comfortable still and not in a huge hurry to intervene if I don't have to. I may run out of produce metaphors by next week, but I'm sure I can start figuring some out myself if necessary.
So let the fortnight of uncertainty begin! And praise the powers that be, once more, for plentiful air conditioning!
My exam this morning was uneventful. Still "starting to open" and healthy, but otherwise nothing looming. No "oh my lord, I see the baby's head, get this lady into the birthing center" or anything like that. She is - as is pretty obvious to me - nice and low and ready to go... when she decides the timing is right. In the meantime, I'm reassured that they don't press induction. After 41 weeks, they run a non-stress test to make sure things are going ok and measure fluids. Then it's kind of up to how much longer the pregnancy can sustain the baby's health. And eventually how desperate I am to get the little belly beastie out of me. But I'm pretty comfortable still and not in a huge hurry to intervene if I don't have to. I may run out of produce metaphors by next week, but I'm sure I can start figuring some out myself if necessary.
So let the fortnight of uncertainty begin! And praise the powers that be, once more, for plentiful air conditioning!
A Finalish Tuck into DINKy Dreams and Quiet Monkey Business
This be the ultimate weekend before my predicted Doobeeedooobeeedoobeee Date. While of course I could also hold this little monster inside for some time after said due date, there's still a sense of gravitas about such milestones. I have definitely reached the point where every lazy & lingering morning, every quiet night out, every lunch snuck in with friends, and every evening ritual could be the last. There's a sweet sapor to such things. Strange having no idea when all this babyosity will burst onto the scene. Like having a big adorable fluffy dog that will eventually leap out from behind a wall and pin you to the ground with slobbery kisses (and maybe some fleas). I'm simultaneously excited and flinching at every corner-turn.
Yep, little belly creature. Mommy just compared you to a St. Bernard. Fortunately, you are measurably smaller than one so far. Though you've wrought far more havoc on my lower bits than my sister's Emma ever did.
But well, as I say, it's time to savor each little moment while being excited for the great unknown to come. And to appreciate the fact that I married into a darned talented family. Back in the Pleistocene Era, Andrew's aunt and cousin made us a quilt for our wedding.
This be the ultimate weekend before my predicted Doobeeedooobeeedoobeee Date. While of course I could also hold this little monster inside for some time after said due date, there's still a sense of gravitas about such milestones. I have definitely reached the point where every lazy & lingering morning, every quiet night out, every lunch snuck in with friends, and every evening ritual could be the last. There's a sweet sapor to such things. Strange having no idea when all this babyosity will burst onto the scene. Like having a big adorable fluffy dog that will eventually leap out from behind a wall and pin you to the ground with slobbery kisses (and maybe some fleas). I'm simultaneously excited and flinching at every corner-turn.
Yep, little belly creature. Mommy just compared you to a St. Bernard. Fortunately, you are measurably smaller than one so far. Though you've wrought far more havoc on my lower bits than my sister's Emma ever did.
But well, as I say, it's time to savor each little moment while being excited for the great unknown to come. And to appreciate the fact that I married into a darned talented family. Back in the Pleistocene Era, Andrew's aunt and cousin made us a quilt for our wedding.
When they heard news of the Wrightlette, they decided to make us a complementary quiltlette for our li'l monkey. His aunt asked us if we had any particular color scheme in mind, so I sent her a picture of the bedding we'd inherited from the Falconers. Yesterday the Wrightlette quiltlette arrived! With a new monkey friend and double blankets (one eensy monkey one, and one that will fit a toddler bed some day).
I almost want to try to use it for myself. If I just used it to cover up my feet (as I'm wont to do these days when 70 degrees is akin to an oven but I just can't set the a/c to 60 in good conscience just for a nice blankety snuggle).
And I'm happy it made it before the wee one. She may hold on for a while, but she's also starting to make some noise. In addition to the usual aches, pangs, and braton hicks, I had some very strong little somethings across my abdomen earlier today. Granted I was doing a fairly aggressive walk through hilly areas and charges up stairs. It felt like a very strong abdominal side stitch as much as anything, but it was definitely contractioney. Those can start and stop for days, but maybe also just start and keep going. Thinking it might be a good day to mellow out a little bit and drink lots of cool soothing water.
And begin some pre-parenting ruminations on my path to permanently preoccupied. I'm having a minor conundrum in realizing that many Bellingham moms, including some I might know and might encounter socially or rely on for childcare, are against vaccinations. Honestly, it took me aback a bit to realize how many are, but this is Bellingham. I'm not a raging judgmental person and I respect people's right to chose their own children's medical care (as strongly as I disagree), but... well... it makes me pretty uncomfortable. I am fairly passionately pro-vaccination where no underlying medical condition exists. And I have been making the rounds of all potential baby visitors to ensure that everyone likely to around the little implette in her first six months has been recently vaccinated. I don't want to make a big deal about it, but I'm not sure how much I want to leave my daughter around unvaccinated children until she's old enough (and godwilling healthy and able) to be vaccinated herself. Hoping that my antibodies have passed to her, but I am already mulling the balance between overprotective mom and responsible parent. Can't protect your baby from every sniffle, but... well, whoopping cough kind of sucks. I'm an introvert. Maybe I'll just use this as an excuse to introvert. At least until the immunization schedule picks up. Or wander around with a dart gun and shoot vaccines at unwitting families...
In more recent concerns, of course, there's "what to do now that the stupid weather has stopped being cool and has gone back to stupid summer." I'm thinking it's time to see if the cleaner has been to the office yet this weekend. Because a/c is highly appreciated right now. We're reaching the point of insufficient fanning here.
And I'm happy it made it before the wee one. She may hold on for a while, but she's also starting to make some noise. In addition to the usual aches, pangs, and braton hicks, I had some very strong little somethings across my abdomen earlier today. Granted I was doing a fairly aggressive walk through hilly areas and charges up stairs. It felt like a very strong abdominal side stitch as much as anything, but it was definitely contractioney. Those can start and stop for days, but maybe also just start and keep going. Thinking it might be a good day to mellow out a little bit and drink lots of cool soothing water.
And begin some pre-parenting ruminations on my path to permanently preoccupied. I'm having a minor conundrum in realizing that many Bellingham moms, including some I might know and might encounter socially or rely on for childcare, are against vaccinations. Honestly, it took me aback a bit to realize how many are, but this is Bellingham. I'm not a raging judgmental person and I respect people's right to chose their own children's medical care (as strongly as I disagree), but... well... it makes me pretty uncomfortable. I am fairly passionately pro-vaccination where no underlying medical condition exists. And I have been making the rounds of all potential baby visitors to ensure that everyone likely to around the little implette in her first six months has been recently vaccinated. I don't want to make a big deal about it, but I'm not sure how much I want to leave my daughter around unvaccinated children until she's old enough (and godwilling healthy and able) to be vaccinated herself. Hoping that my antibodies have passed to her, but I am already mulling the balance between overprotective mom and responsible parent. Can't protect your baby from every sniffle, but... well, whoopping cough kind of sucks. I'm an introvert. Maybe I'll just use this as an excuse to introvert. At least until the immunization schedule picks up. Or wander around with a dart gun and shoot vaccines at unwitting families...
In more recent concerns, of course, there's "what to do now that the stupid weather has stopped being cool and has gone back to stupid summer." I'm thinking it's time to see if the cleaner has been to the office yet this weekend. Because a/c is highly appreciated right now. We're reaching the point of insufficient fanning here.
D-Day Week Begins: T he semi-final maybe kinda sorta who knows count-down
According to a rarely accurate (but still useful) formulation, I am four days away from giving birth to my own little bundle of cone-headed joy and meconium! According to our handy-dandy statistics site, this gives me (as of today) a 43% chance of giving birth within seven days, a 30% chance of giving birth in the next 5 days, an 18% chance of giving birth within the next three days and a 6% chance of going into labor today!
Of course statistics can be dangerous little things, since there's no guarantee that any one individual will be on the 99% likely side versus the 1% outlier side of things. And, of course, generic website statistics based on the experience "all pregnant women" may lack the personalization necessary for any semblance of personal accuracy.
According to a rarely accurate (but still useful) formulation, I am four days away from giving birth to my own little bundle of cone-headed joy and meconium! According to our handy-dandy statistics site, this gives me (as of today) a 43% chance of giving birth within seven days, a 30% chance of giving birth in the next 5 days, an 18% chance of giving birth within the next three days and a 6% chance of going into labor today!
Of course statistics can be dangerous little things, since there's no guarantee that any one individual will be on the 99% likely side versus the 1% outlier side of things. And, of course, generic website statistics based on the experience "all pregnant women" may lack the personalization necessary for any semblance of personal accuracy.
And there may be the risk that one's husband (who admits that he is currently gauging his odds of "having to bail on work this week") might hear a few comments that one has been having increased contractions of a less "practice" variety and is feeling a little less convinced that the baby is going to hold on as long as she can after all, and respond with a reassuring "yeah, but that's not that much different than last week - you had a 20% chance last week and now it's a 30% chance that you'll give birth by Friday!"
Which is fine now, but I'm envisioning some future moment where the baby is crowning and my husband is saying "yeah, but your statistical likelihood of having the baby before I get off work is still only like 40% so don't worry!"
But yes, statistical probabilities for the "average woman" aside, this prelabor thing is a quagmire of uncertainty. Having contractions? Welcome to the party. You could be one of those women who has a few twinges and then rollicks straight into labor. Or one of those who has debilitatingly painful ones for weeks without no progress. Did your water break? Sure you'd know. Unless you're one of those who just leaks amniotic fluid instead. Mucus plug? Maybe. Maybe you see it maybe you don't. And maybe that means get ready for 12 hours of "fun" followed by a lifetime of parenthood. Or maybe it means you might want to get that bag packed before two or three weeks from now.
Cramps? Was it something you ate? Back pain? Duh, you're pregnant and doing all kinds of weird pre-labor exercises. You're always making your muscles ache. Is that pulling sensation a contraction or just more torn collagen and ligaments from an ever expanding belly? Lord knows! Did they amp up because you overdid it yesterday? Will they go away with rest and hydration? Bloody show (or as it is known in mid-2000's Boston, "Wicked Show")? That's it! For sure! Unless, you just had an exam... or... well... you know... something else... Child dangling out of your body? Ok, you've just given birth. We're good, cut the cord.
Nobody can say from moment to moment. Except that there are some statistical chances involved that they are or aren't "the real thing."
Anyways, mostly (believe it or not), I'm pretty chill. But it does remind me of the early part of pregnancy. There's that first bit where you aren't sure it's going to stick and you're not really sure what all the weird changes going on in your body really signify. Requiring a constant vigil over every single ache, pain, and odd sensation, because any one of them could be the sign of unsticking. Pre-labor is less agonizing. And far less terrifying, despite the heavy portent of what labor signifies. But there are unfamiliar things happening in my body, and these are mixing with some old familiars, and all that pinballs about in my brain with several "what ifs" when they happen.
So, I'm mostly waffling between assuming the little sprat really will hang on straight until "Labor Day" (baby badinage!!), and wondering if I'll be a mommy tomorrow. I can see why so many women want to self-induce after a few weeks of this. It's a little disorienting.
Yesterday was a very uncertain day. I overdid it by barrelling through a walk through the Whatcom Falls Park. Or so my body would have me believe. I take the same route every weekend, but it is admittedly one with several intervening stairs and some pretty graded climbs. In my slightly embarrassed way, I was indeed the pregnant woman passing everyone else (with little room to spare). By the last ten minutes, my body had started to indicate that maybe I needed to slow it down. Or sit down. Certainly some of it was straight joint pain mixed with the shocks of baby head ramming into my groin. Some of it was the usual dehydrated and warm Braxton Hicks. Some of it, though, felt like a very powerful side-stretch all across my abdomen. To a point of mild pain. And my stomach was a bit upset. So all that combined together to make the final bit of my walk pretty difficult. I sat for a while and drank a lot, but was feeling crampy and kind of weird for the rest of the day. Suddenly I was questioning my "not feeling close" in many new ways.
This morning, there are still some lingering shots of abdominal tightness that seem different to me. And my stomach was still a bit unsettled when I woke up. In between these, I feel totally normal and not really all that concerned that today will be much different from any other day.
Well, except for the inevitable family frenzy. The Falconers returned from Canada on Saturday evening. They're leaving for New Jersey tomorrow. So there will be special times with them today. Unless I go into labor. Which... well you never know!
Well you do at some very certain points. Like if you're not pregnant at all. Or actively pushing in a hospital. There are points.
Which is fine now, but I'm envisioning some future moment where the baby is crowning and my husband is saying "yeah, but your statistical likelihood of having the baby before I get off work is still only like 40% so don't worry!"
But yes, statistical probabilities for the "average woman" aside, this prelabor thing is a quagmire of uncertainty. Having contractions? Welcome to the party. You could be one of those women who has a few twinges and then rollicks straight into labor. Or one of those who has debilitatingly painful ones for weeks without no progress. Did your water break? Sure you'd know. Unless you're one of those who just leaks amniotic fluid instead. Mucus plug? Maybe. Maybe you see it maybe you don't. And maybe that means get ready for 12 hours of "fun" followed by a lifetime of parenthood. Or maybe it means you might want to get that bag packed before two or three weeks from now.
Cramps? Was it something you ate? Back pain? Duh, you're pregnant and doing all kinds of weird pre-labor exercises. You're always making your muscles ache. Is that pulling sensation a contraction or just more torn collagen and ligaments from an ever expanding belly? Lord knows! Did they amp up because you overdid it yesterday? Will they go away with rest and hydration? Bloody show (or as it is known in mid-2000's Boston, "Wicked Show")? That's it! For sure! Unless, you just had an exam... or... well... you know... something else... Child dangling out of your body? Ok, you've just given birth. We're good, cut the cord.
Nobody can say from moment to moment. Except that there are some statistical chances involved that they are or aren't "the real thing."
Anyways, mostly (believe it or not), I'm pretty chill. But it does remind me of the early part of pregnancy. There's that first bit where you aren't sure it's going to stick and you're not really sure what all the weird changes going on in your body really signify. Requiring a constant vigil over every single ache, pain, and odd sensation, because any one of them could be the sign of unsticking. Pre-labor is less agonizing. And far less terrifying, despite the heavy portent of what labor signifies. But there are unfamiliar things happening in my body, and these are mixing with some old familiars, and all that pinballs about in my brain with several "what ifs" when they happen.
So, I'm mostly waffling between assuming the little sprat really will hang on straight until "Labor Day" (baby badinage!!), and wondering if I'll be a mommy tomorrow. I can see why so many women want to self-induce after a few weeks of this. It's a little disorienting.
Yesterday was a very uncertain day. I overdid it by barrelling through a walk through the Whatcom Falls Park. Or so my body would have me believe. I take the same route every weekend, but it is admittedly one with several intervening stairs and some pretty graded climbs. In my slightly embarrassed way, I was indeed the pregnant woman passing everyone else (with little room to spare). By the last ten minutes, my body had started to indicate that maybe I needed to slow it down. Or sit down. Certainly some of it was straight joint pain mixed with the shocks of baby head ramming into my groin. Some of it was the usual dehydrated and warm Braxton Hicks. Some of it, though, felt like a very powerful side-stretch all across my abdomen. To a point of mild pain. And my stomach was a bit upset. So all that combined together to make the final bit of my walk pretty difficult. I sat for a while and drank a lot, but was feeling crampy and kind of weird for the rest of the day. Suddenly I was questioning my "not feeling close" in many new ways.
This morning, there are still some lingering shots of abdominal tightness that seem different to me. And my stomach was still a bit unsettled when I woke up. In between these, I feel totally normal and not really all that concerned that today will be much different from any other day.
Well, except for the inevitable family frenzy. The Falconers returned from Canada on Saturday evening. They're leaving for New Jersey tomorrow. So there will be special times with them today. Unless I go into labor. Which... well you never know!
Well you do at some very certain points. Like if you're not pregnant at all. Or actively pushing in a hospital. There are points.
Garage a Go-Go
If I lived in a sit-com and/or some kind of quirky indie flick, I would have gone into labor last night. Trust me on this. All the signs were there. I had had sufficient tweaks and twinges through the day to make it all plausible. But more importantly, the timing was absolutely rife with "what a story" potential.
If I lived in a sit-com and/or some kind of quirky indie flick, I would have gone into labor last night. Trust me on this. All the signs were there. I had had sufficient tweaks and twinges through the day to make it all plausible. But more importantly, the timing was absolutely rife with "what a story" potential.
To lay the groundwork:
Of course, there's the fact that the Falconers are still in town. I spent much of the day with them yesterday, in fact. We convened earlier in the day at the unofficially named "Zipline Park." This is some new park in the middle of Nowhere, USA, which has found fancy with the nephews. I mean when they're not gnashing their teeth over the injustice of having to (1) go there, (2) remain there, (3) leave there, (4) be anywhere - including there - during the brief interludes between full on rapturous rompings.
It's fascinating to watch the dynamics unfold when Daddy Ryan is added to the equation. Rachel is definitely a dialectical type. She wants to discuss why behaviors are not cool, what's going on behind those feelings, alternatives to these behavioral expressions of said feelings, and so on and so forth... it can be incredibly instructive and powerful. It can also lead to several hours of bargaining followed by an impromptu tantrum that knows no reason. Just depends on the mood.
Ryan, by contrast, takes the stern and firm approach. Make a decision, bark it loudly, and be willing to enter the endless and combative battle of wills until victory is ascertained or everyone falls asleep from sheer exhaustion. Or, maybe, the two eldest and most vociferously unhappy Falconer boys begrudgingly join Daddy Ryan for a long sit in the car and a drive to the Harbor and back while the rest of the family stays at the park. Because it should be learned that whining repeatedly that you want to leave the park is not an acceptable way to suggest that it is time to move on, and rather makes everyone else feel obliged to stay at the park longer so that there is no reward seen in such behavior.
The battle of the wills most likely will escalate in fascinating alpha dog ways as Ian enters his teen years. But Ryan's a cross-fitting, urban marathoning, financial guy (who does a mean cross-stitch and may one day finish that wooden canoe he carved out of a tree). I think he's up for some years of competition. And if it means we hang out at the park for a while longer hanging out, I can handle that.
But yes, day with the Falconers. I reconvened with them later to have dinner with them and Grandpa Ian, who may or may not see me again before I'm with baby (a surreal thought). We returned to the Old Country Buffet. I love that the boys love this place as much as I seem to. I think we've been there several times the last few weeks. I have eaten a small city-state's worth of gardens from their luscious salad bars.
In the meantime, Boy-toy David apparently texted my mom that he'd been having chest and arm pain and would be spending the evening at the ER. She rushed out there to be with him for most of the evening. Apparently he hadn't thought to eat all day. I offered to bring them food, but he made do with a bag of peanut M&Ms I guess.
So yes, yesterday I could have given birth surrounded by rabid nephews on wheels with spiky helmets while the rest of the family lingered nearby at the emergency room. Or I could have waited until after I attempted to go home and things didn't quite work out so well.
Of course, there's the fact that the Falconers are still in town. I spent much of the day with them yesterday, in fact. We convened earlier in the day at the unofficially named "Zipline Park." This is some new park in the middle of Nowhere, USA, which has found fancy with the nephews. I mean when they're not gnashing their teeth over the injustice of having to (1) go there, (2) remain there, (3) leave there, (4) be anywhere - including there - during the brief interludes between full on rapturous rompings.
It's fascinating to watch the dynamics unfold when Daddy Ryan is added to the equation. Rachel is definitely a dialectical type. She wants to discuss why behaviors are not cool, what's going on behind those feelings, alternatives to these behavioral expressions of said feelings, and so on and so forth... it can be incredibly instructive and powerful. It can also lead to several hours of bargaining followed by an impromptu tantrum that knows no reason. Just depends on the mood.
Ryan, by contrast, takes the stern and firm approach. Make a decision, bark it loudly, and be willing to enter the endless and combative battle of wills until victory is ascertained or everyone falls asleep from sheer exhaustion. Or, maybe, the two eldest and most vociferously unhappy Falconer boys begrudgingly join Daddy Ryan for a long sit in the car and a drive to the Harbor and back while the rest of the family stays at the park. Because it should be learned that whining repeatedly that you want to leave the park is not an acceptable way to suggest that it is time to move on, and rather makes everyone else feel obliged to stay at the park longer so that there is no reward seen in such behavior.
The battle of the wills most likely will escalate in fascinating alpha dog ways as Ian enters his teen years. But Ryan's a cross-fitting, urban marathoning, financial guy (who does a mean cross-stitch and may one day finish that wooden canoe he carved out of a tree). I think he's up for some years of competition. And if it means we hang out at the park for a while longer hanging out, I can handle that.
But yes, day with the Falconers. I reconvened with them later to have dinner with them and Grandpa Ian, who may or may not see me again before I'm with baby (a surreal thought). We returned to the Old Country Buffet. I love that the boys love this place as much as I seem to. I think we've been there several times the last few weeks. I have eaten a small city-state's worth of gardens from their luscious salad bars.
In the meantime, Boy-toy David apparently texted my mom that he'd been having chest and arm pain and would be spending the evening at the ER. She rushed out there to be with him for most of the evening. Apparently he hadn't thought to eat all day. I offered to bring them food, but he made do with a bag of peanut M&Ms I guess.
So yes, yesterday I could have given birth surrounded by rabid nephews on wheels with spiky helmets while the rest of the family lingered nearby at the emergency room. Or I could have waited until after I attempted to go home and things didn't quite work out so well.
No, no, I actually made it home just fine. But then I couldn't get into the garage. The door opener was defunct. I'd thought it needed a new battery and had purchased one before dinner, but this did not seem to have any impact on effectiveness.
So I got out of the car, walked in the front door, opened the garage door from the inside and drove the car in... to find that the door between the garage and the house was no longer functioning. The door knob locking mechanism had apparently burst between my last use and this attempted use a few minutes later.
While I walked around and back into the house, Andrew decided to take the door knob out of the inner garage door. Not a bad idea. But in the offing, he first decided to close the outer garage door. Which he did by walking into the garage from the outside, hitting the garage door button inside, and then running back outside. The door didn't close on him, but it essentially guaranteed that unless the door knob could be fixed (or the door vanquished), my car was no longer accessible. And of course, once half of the door knob was installed, he realized that he needed to be on the other side of the door to continue fixing it. I was quite in favor of unhinging the door (anything to get back access to my car). Andrew continued battling with the door instead. He tried his defunct garage door opener. It did not work. He tried his door opener with the new battery. No luck.
And yes, the car now trapped in the garage happened to be the only one with a properly installed car seat. And yes they won't let you leave the hospital without proving you have a properly installed car seat to bring the baby home.
So at that point, I was figuring my next contraction could be THE BIG ONE. Although, for maximum effect, I suppose Andrew's car should have exploded when he first hit the button on his garage door opener.
Anyways, I actually managed to get one of the remotes to work, and we were able to continue extracting the door knob. And finally, I am back to having a working garage with full-car access. David's tests were fine yesterday though they kept him overnight for observation and will do a stress test this morning (fingers crossed). And the Falconers will be heading out late morning to brave Seattle traffic and hopefully not miss their flight like last year.
All that talk of statistics and overanalyzing every bizarre body twinge (of which I've developed several in the last day or two) and really I am still predicting labor by the "it would figure" factor. Yesterday was a strong candidate. Today, a little less so. My birthday has potential. Sunday the 16th apparently does as well, since my dad will be at another business conference in Everett... just like he was when my mom went into labor with me! Apparently she was unable to get ahold of him and he came home to a madly laboring wife who had already dropped my sister off with sitters and was not entirely thrilled with her returning Ulysses. He also took scads of photos without realizing that the camera had not been loaded with film to record these photos.
But for the sake of being nerdy, we're at a 6.2% chance that today is the day, 31.9% that it will be in the next five days, and 45% chance within the week. And I still have about a 6% chance of giving birth on my birthday (next Tuesday)!
So I got out of the car, walked in the front door, opened the garage door from the inside and drove the car in... to find that the door between the garage and the house was no longer functioning. The door knob locking mechanism had apparently burst between my last use and this attempted use a few minutes later.
While I walked around and back into the house, Andrew decided to take the door knob out of the inner garage door. Not a bad idea. But in the offing, he first decided to close the outer garage door. Which he did by walking into the garage from the outside, hitting the garage door button inside, and then running back outside. The door didn't close on him, but it essentially guaranteed that unless the door knob could be fixed (or the door vanquished), my car was no longer accessible. And of course, once half of the door knob was installed, he realized that he needed to be on the other side of the door to continue fixing it. I was quite in favor of unhinging the door (anything to get back access to my car). Andrew continued battling with the door instead. He tried his defunct garage door opener. It did not work. He tried his door opener with the new battery. No luck.
And yes, the car now trapped in the garage happened to be the only one with a properly installed car seat. And yes they won't let you leave the hospital without proving you have a properly installed car seat to bring the baby home.
So at that point, I was figuring my next contraction could be THE BIG ONE. Although, for maximum effect, I suppose Andrew's car should have exploded when he first hit the button on his garage door opener.
Anyways, I actually managed to get one of the remotes to work, and we were able to continue extracting the door knob. And finally, I am back to having a working garage with full-car access. David's tests were fine yesterday though they kept him overnight for observation and will do a stress test this morning (fingers crossed). And the Falconers will be heading out late morning to brave Seattle traffic and hopefully not miss their flight like last year.
All that talk of statistics and overanalyzing every bizarre body twinge (of which I've developed several in the last day or two) and really I am still predicting labor by the "it would figure" factor. Yesterday was a strong candidate. Today, a little less so. My birthday has potential. Sunday the 16th apparently does as well, since my dad will be at another business conference in Everett... just like he was when my mom went into labor with me! Apparently she was unable to get ahold of him and he came home to a madly laboring wife who had already dropped my sister off with sitters and was not entirely thrilled with her returning Ulysses. He also took scads of photos without realizing that the camera had not been loaded with film to record these photos.
But for the sake of being nerdy, we're at a 6.2% chance that today is the day, 31.9% that it will be in the next five days, and 45% chance within the week. And I still have about a 6% chance of giving birth on my birthday (next Tuesday)!
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