You Can Thank The Zombies

I might just be in early labor right now. It’s been three hours of relatively manageable short contractions, every 4-6 minutes. Now they’re starting to get a little more intense, so I figured I’d better get this written before they get too strong.

It’s possible this will fizzle out, but at the moment it doesn’t feel like it. My mom is coming up to watch Cordy for us, and my doula is at the ready.

What finally brought this on? Well, if you ask Aaron, he’d tell you zombies. We went walking downtown early this evening to see the Zombie Walk, hoping that all the walking would help push me into labor. It might have worked – contractions started about an hour after we got home.

So, updates will hopefully be coming soon, either from me or Aaron. I’m going to be really embarrassed if this is a false alarm, but for now, we’ll assume I’m in early labor. Think good thoughts for a quick and successful VBAC.

2:45am edit – Pretty sure this is the real thing. And I can now say for certain that a Tylenol could never mask this pain.



Passing the Time

Since I’m officially past due, I had my first non-stress test yesterday. It confirmed what I already thought: she’s a very healthy baby who is just choosing to take her time. Plenty of fluid in there, good heartrate, so we continue to wait. I have a feeling that I may go past everyone’s predictions from the “Guess the Birthday” game at the Virtual Shower. I think the latest guess was May 25. I guess this baby just likes to prove people wrong – she may beat out every weight guess, too, as she’s estimated to be around nine pounds.

We’ve tried most of the “natural” induction methods out there, aside from castor oil. Sorry, sitting on the toilet all day with strong intestinal cramping just doesn’t sound worth it to start labor. So now we’re moving on to the Murphy’s Law method of induction. We bought advance tickets to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 tonight, and we’re making plans for the weekend.

The theory is that if we make plans to do something fun, the baby will decide it’s time to spoil those plans. It’s similar to a successful tactic used by a friend to get food to show up at a restaurant – as soon as he goes out for a smoke, the food always shows up. If this method works for us, my water will break just as the previews finish and the opening credits begin.

In the meantime, I’ve been tasked with a meme from Kari to reveal eight random facts about myself:

1. My favorite movie of all time is Moulin Rouge. I’ve watched it way too many times and yet never tire of it.

2. I was originally ambidextrous, and wrote better with my left hand, but thanks to pushy kindergarten teachers, I was forced to write with my right hand “for my own good”. I still use my left hand to open jars and do other tasks.

3. In high school, my normal lunch was a Snickers bar and an order of fries, unless it was pizza day. It’s amazing I grew at all.

4. I have a little “lucky troll” in my car that has been with me since I learned to drive. He must always be in my car. His hot pink hair has has faded to white, and the front half of him is burned black from all the sun exposure, but I won’t get rid of him.

5. I was a rennie for nine years. Translation: I was a costumed performer at a renaissance festival for nine years. I met my husband there, too.

6. When I was in Britain for a summer in college, I hitchhiked once. It was in Scotland, just outside Inverness, and I missed my bus going back from a tour of Loch Ness. It was only a 5 mile or so walk back, so I started walking, but was stopped three times and offered a ride. I accepted on the third one – it was a family with a small child, so I felt safe. Turns out even my travel guide said hitchhiking is safe in the Scottish highlands. Nice people.

7. I have a scar just under my lower lip. During the blizzard of ’78, my mom took me into a store and set me down, thinking I had my footing. I didn’t, and fell on my face (big snowsuit – couldn’t move arms), putting my tooth through my lip.

8. I always feel awkward tagging people to do memes. So if you’d like to play, consider yourself tagged!

Thanks, Kari! That helped kill a little time while I continue waiting. (Don’t worry, Kate, I haven’t forgotten your meme tag, either, and will probably get to it tomorrow!) Now I must get back to my other way to pass the time – chasing after a cranky toddler who has taken to calling me “Mr. Mommy.”



You Can Tell We’re "Klassy" By The Mattress On The Floor

So, uh, yeah…still here.

Remember how I thought I could be all clever and take the drop rail off the side of the crib to transition Cordy to a toddler bed? Oh sure, I thought, it’s still her crib – it’s just missing one side. She’ll adjust, right?

Yeah, well…not going so well thus far. Apparently a crib without its drop rail is, in fact, NOT the same as her crib. Two nights ago, I placed her in her room, tried to reason with her (HA!) about the coolness of her Big Girl Bed for over 20 minutes, then gave up and simply raced her to the door, managing to get out without shutting her fingers in the door. She screamed for about 2 minutes again, but then all was quiet. I figured she gave up and got in bed.

However, when Aaron went to check on her an hour later, he found she had climbed up into the rocking chair in the room and fell asleep there, slumped over holding one of her books. He moved her to the crib, where she did sleep most of the night. Around 4am she was up and moving around in her room, but she didn’t yell for us or cry, so she clearly wasn’t too traumatized.

Last night, though, was the worst yet. Twice I rocked Cordy to sleep and tried to lay her down in her bed, and both times her eyes would pop open and with lightening speed her arms and legs were wrapped around my leg. Aaron then tried twice, with the same results. He finally raced her out the door, but the screaming didn’t stop after 2 minutes like the previous nights. After 10 minutes, I went back in and comforted her, trying to place her on one of the beds, but she would not go near them.

I then spotted her little foam fold-out couch, and wrestled her down onto it, with me laying beside her. This was at least acceptable to Cordy, so we stayed there on the floor, with me right beside her patting her back, until she was asleep. I then was able to sneak out, and later Aaron came in and moved her to a bed again.

It seems we may have luck getting her to sleep if we lay down with her. The problem is, both toddler beds won’t hold our weight. Which now leads us to Phase 2 of Operation: Crib Eviction – we’re going to remove the crib entirely, and leave the mattress on the floor. She’s never liked heights, so maybe having the mattress on the floor will comfort her? And if it’s on the floor, Aaron or I will be able to lay down with her.

I’m not thrilled with the idea of her sleeping on a mattress on the floor – could be the college flashbacks it conjures up – but I’m willing to try it as another way to get her used to the idea of sleeping without bars.



Filtered and Non-Filtered Conversation

While in line at the cafe at work today:

Woman: Wow, look at you – you’re ready to pop! When are you due?

Me: Yesterday.

Woman: Oh, that must be awful to be past due! Are you in a lot of pain?

Me: (trying to avoid this conversation) I’m a little sore, but it’s not bad.

Woman: Well, what are you waiting for? Why not cut that baby out and get it over with?

Me: *blink blink*

Possible responses that flash by in my head:

Gee, I’m not so fond of major abdominal surgery.

Yeah, damn that little brat for being one day past the arbitrary date set by a calendar! I’ll show her who’s in charge!

My doctor has advised me not to take advice from idiot strangers with no medical background.

Huh, why didn’t I think of that? Got a knife?

Tried that once – not for me.

It’s a baby, not a tumor to be cut out at will.

Oh, that useless brain in your head must be awful! Why not just cut it out and get it over with?

What I actually say:

Me: (resisting urge to lecture on the complication risks of elective c-sections) She’ll come when she’s ready.

Sometimes I hate that little filter between my brain and mouth, especially when dealing with people who clearly have no filter. I mean, really – who asks something like that?

I think at this point I’d rather wear a shirt that says, “Just awkwardly fat, not pregnant” to avoid these types of conversations.



Due Date, With Nothing Arriving

I wish I could tell you all that I’m in labor, but I’m not. Today is my due date, and I had my weekly meeting with my doctor this morning, but sadly I was given the medical equivalent of being told, “She’s ordering curtains to brighten up the place.” Nothing has changed at all – still 1.5 centimeters dilated, still barely effaced, no real contractions. This kid has no plans to leave anytime soon.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic smile today and said, “Well, at least you haven’t gained any weight! That’s good, right?” I’d like to share her optimism, but I know that while the scale may not show any gain on my part, the baby is still growing. She was estimated at over 7 pounds a month ago. The larger she gets, the harder she will be to get out.

I suppose there’s still time for her to show up today – about 11 hours, to be exact. Starting off life fashionably late may be OK for some, but in our family it isn’t an endearing trait. Aaron can’t tolerate being late for anything, so if she’s late I have a feeling Aaron will greet his new daughter with, “Hi, you’re grounded.”

We did make good progress this weekend in prepping for her arrival. The co-sleeper is assembled and ready to go. She has clean clothing folded in drawers. She has plenty of diapers, all in size 1, of course, since I doubt she’ll need the newborn size at all. Her car seat was washed and sits waiting for an occupant. My hospital bag is mostly packed.

So I must continue to wait for Ms. Stubborn Baby #2 to decide she’s ready. And yeah, still no definite name – or maybe that’s all she’s really waiting on? Maybe she’s some kind of backwards Rumpelstiltskin who won’t appear until we can correctly guess her name?

Edited to add: I wrote about last night’s bedtime adventure with Cordy over at my Family.com blog, Cirque du Mommy. Go there to see how it went.

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