One Week Old

Zia is a growing munchkin!  When the midwives weighed her at one week, she'd already gained back all of her birth weight... and then some :)  Unfortunately, all of that munchin seems to have brought on an oversupply of milk, something she is less than pleased with this week (gulp, gulp, choke, gasp!)  Her sleep is still a little wonky (day, night, whatever;), but she is the cuddliest little baby and I keep promising her that everything will fall into place in another week or two :)

Meanwhile, her big brother is being the world's best.  Thank gawd he has The Saint, I think this aids his outlook ;)  He's spent a couple of nights here with us, but the vast majority of his time is spent playing with Grams and sleeping over at her house.  Honestly, I miss him terribly, but would be pretty worthless to him right now, so I'm thrilled he will look back on this time as a happy blur of games and sleepovers instead of shitty diapers and a weak Mama!  Nevertheless, I think he's still pretty jazzed about gaining a sibling.  He excitedly introduced his buddies next door to his baby sister the other day and I overheard him telling them how much he loves her :)

Ode to a husband

"Oh, all of this nursing and pooping just wears a girl out!"

An exhausted Superman, sneaking some zzz's with Zia.

We had our wedding anniversary a few weeks ago (14 years of marriage - about, what, 22 years altogether?  Wow, time flies;) when I was sick. Superman sweetly carried in food and didn't blink at my boogery-self's uselessness.  Then his birthday hit the day after his daughter's and he was massively lost amongst the shuffle.  Labeling him "Birthday Boy" each time I addressed him was about as far as that all went...

And now, his bed-rest stricken wife has lazed about for a week, stuck upstairs with the sweetest little (constantly nursing!!!) babe while... he has gotten up before the crack of dawn to work a half day, then rushed downstairs to make said wife breakfast, wash diapers, clean dishes, do more laundry and diapers (umm, this kid is so getting EC'd as soon as I'm mobile!!!), scrub bathrooms and then turn around to fix more food for the silly, starving, stuck wife.  Oh, and he changes diapers, holds and coos at his daughter and then spends the afternoon creating creative number games with his son...  Honestly, the gratefulness I feel for this guy feels just. too. big.  Were I the type to enjoy being waited on hand and foot, this might just be the time of my life...  As it is, that constant of motherhood, Guilt (the bitch) taunts me.  Fortunately, Superman seems to be weathering the storm...

But, weathering it or not, I wish I could give him a Great Big Vacation.  For now, he'll have to settle for a public statement to his greatness :)  Ethan, you are my Superman.  Thank you.

Artemisia West

She's here!  I believe E has sent texts to all of his family (and mine:) but I haven't really been on top of such things... so here's a little mass announcement!  Artemisia West (nickname: Zia) was born Monday morning at 1:56 AM, weighing in at 7 pounds and 6 ounces.  She's all healthy and sweet and we are So. In. Love.  The Little Man declared it the "best day of his life" and is quite effusive in his adoration of her little bits and pieces.  Except for her crying and pooping.  Those, he could do without ;)  But her pinky finger is, apparently, the World's Best Thing Ever.

Most of the women I know share their birth stories with each other, I don't know if this is a modern phenomena or a long reaching reaction to going through a life-changing period, but I never got around to putting P's to paper, so I'd like to do Z's before it fades into the woodwork.  Feel free to skip it ;)

First, my mother (henceforth called Our Saint) arrived on Thursday.  We had a day of fun falling in love with Portland on Friday while I had mild contractions pretty evenly spaced.  I'd had a few of the other classic "get ready for birth signs" the few previous days, so I knew this was probably very early labor, but I'm not counting it in the hourly countdown... that number would sound... obnoxious ;)

I woke up in faster labor at two that night and just tried to doze between contractions for a few hours.  Around six I was so hopeful things would move along and I could meet my daughter in a few hours (haha) that I got up and went up and down the stairs a few times.  Then I realized I was actually pretty tired and should be patient and try to sleep between them again :)

We did the basic early labor thing all day (the contractions were 8 to 10 minutes apart and some of them I couldn't talk through, but a lot were really manageable) so mom and I walked around the neighborhood and went to lunch, hoping to get things really going.  When she left with P that afternoon, I was concentrating pretty hard to get through the contractions, but they still weren't closer together.   One of my awesome midwives stopped by somewhere in there. She was fantastic about being patient with this labor and I was mightily relieved to be far away from words like "pitocin" and "timing your progress."

Let me pause here to sing the praises of the west-coast midwife.  I had a clinical one in NYC (meh - kinda like an OB, though I'm sure the homebirth midwives are quite different there).  With P I had a clinical midwife in the midwest (meh - kinda like a slightly more patient OB, but still kinda walking the traditional Western path) and now a homebirth midwife on the West Coast.  Which, my NYC midwife told me, would be a whole different story.  Now I know what she means.  The trust and patience these women have in the natural process of birthing a baby is almost tear inducing.  They never requested I do a cervical check to show what my progress was.  They continually reassured me that, however variant my labor was to those in the text books, it was going along beautifully.  There were no "time lines" or anything.  Just giving birth, whenever and however it happened.  I love that.

So I labored through Saturday night too, napping as I could, moving on the birthing ball to get through contractions.  Sunday morning brought.... 8 to 10 minute apart contractions.  I'll admit to being a bit bummed about this :)  I was really hoping to see this baby... soon!

My midwives came back again to see if I needed anything.  While they were here, my contractions suddenly spaced to 3 minutes apart and all of the intense back labor/pressure I'd been experiencing shifted.  Ahhh, this is more like I remembered it from P.  Things not quite so painful and moving closer together.  While they may have the patience of saints, I was ready to get this show on the road :)

Things settled into the classic 4 to 5 minutes apart, lasting for a minute pattern and after having tea and hanging out in the living room with E and I,  they left to let me labor.  It shifted back to back labor and lots of pressure in the back, but things were moving along, so I didn't care :)

I LOVE laboring at home like this.  The sweet little farmhouse we birthed in when P was born in Kansas was nice and all, but still, it wasn't home.

As the afternoon rambled on, I was feeling a bit restless and wanted to walk around the block.  It was a lovely drizzly day (I adore drizzle) and we set off, pausing when needed by trees to look like crazies, swaying through contractions :)

Then it started raining.  Like really raining.  We were actually just across the street from the flat my mother is staying in and I missed P desperately by then, so we popped in there to say hi.

My poor mother (aka Our Saint).  Unlike my midwives, she does appreciate a text book labor and was more than interested in her daughter being more comfortable at a little faster pace.  My labor totally stalled while we were there and I realized we needed to go, I was too worried about my mom's worry and P.  So out we went, P following us home :)

By dinnertime that night I was pretty tired of being in labor.  P had gone back to my mom and E and I ate in the kitchen.  We were happy to be following this labor's path, but I was pretty tired and not really wanting to labor through another night.  One of my midwives called to check in and I mentioned the word "discouraged" :)

She came over shortly afterwards with some naturopathics to regulate contractions if I wanted.  I don't know if it was a coincidence or not, but, just as the day before when my other midwife arrived, my contractions almost immediately picked up the pace. Going just a few minutes apart, they checked my vitals and the babies again and all was well.

We went upstairs so I could lay on the bed to check the baby's pesky position.  She had been threatening us with being posterior for the past few weeks and all of the back labor definitely pointed in that direction.  A few contractions and a bit of belly poking later and... yup, she was still not all the way turned.  Which was probably why my labor was draggggggging along, to give her the encouragement she needed to stop hanging out on my side and move to the front.

One of my midwives said she would like to use a rebozo technique to help the baby take the final turn she needed.  Sweet.  I lay down on the floor on top of her rebozo and she rocked my baby belly side to side in a sway.  A contraction interrupted us and as I turned on my side to work through it I felt the baby make a big movement right as I heard a POP!  Strange, I thought, what was....

And then I was totally taken over with contraction on top of contraction on top of contraction on top of, you get the idea.  There was no break for about 6 or 7 minutes.  And I LOVE what Silke said as it passed.  "That seemed like a bigger one..."  Hehee.

I replied that I was pretty sure I was going to make a mess fast.

Sweet Ethan had just been instructed to fill up the birthing tub so I could finally relax through some of these back labor pains (now that things were really moving, we hadn't been wanting to take a chance on the comfort of the water slowing things down) and I could just hear the music he had put on to whistle to while he worked. For some reason, this made me laugh.  I find the man so delightful.

After a few seconds, another one hit and I said I was going to throw up (which made me realize I must have all of a sudden hit transition) and then another one hit and... my body started pushing.  Ummm.  Strange.  Transition supposedly lasts a bit.  But nope.  No puking.  Definitely pushing.

And with that, the tub was abandoned and E (henceforth called Superman) was beckoned to with a bit of immediacy.

I knew there was the commotion of birthing stuffs being brought into the bedroom.  Liners being put onto the white carpet.  Our other midwife being called.  But I was busy.  It was all background because I was so completely consumed by constant contractions and my body being a bit confused.  Part of me was pushing and part of me was just trying to muddle through the contractions like I had for the last few days.  Finally, I realized they weren't really in sink and gave into the pushing part and that was immediately satisfying.  And immensely painful.

Which was frustrating to me.  Because the pushing part with P wasn't nearly this painful.  This was all so different.

And so it went for the next four hours.  Superman helped balance me as I squatted then leaned forward, then huddled on him, then, feeling pretty exhausted, laid sideways on the bed and pushed against him.  There may have been some smacking on his legs.  He may have been told no, pleeeease, when he mentioned the need to pee, there definitely was pushing and pulling on his body parts...  And he was so soothing with light kisses and basically just letting me abuse him however my body needed.  Superman.

Meanwhile, the midwives were amazing.  Their encouragement allowed the worry that occasionally creeped in (it hurt so much worse than P's!  And this was supposed to be, ahem, easier the second time!!!) to be set aside and my pushing to be as effective (thanks to their coaching) as it could be.

So, though their suggestion to move upright (actually will my body to move?!) seemed insane,  I trusted them, knowing that the gravity I'd been trying to dance with all day should come back into the picture and help me out.  As soon as I was up and squatting I knew things had just changed.  "She's coming!"

She had felt stuck for seeming forever.  I could feel her moving further down, but then sliding back up.  Over and over again.  She just couldnt' get past some curve.  And I could feel her trying.  Trying to help me, adjusting in me.  And this made me love her even so much more.  My strong daughter.

Gravity brought her around the bend and I felt her crown.  Oh the supreme joy of that moment.  My midwives before, from P's birth, bailed on me before I could birth P by myself.  They said they didn't think I could do it, that I needed help, that the vacuum should be used.  I remember being a bit surprised because I didn't feel done and ready to give up that night.  I didn't feel like I couldn't do it.   Well, it was in the moment that Zia crowned that I knew that what my West Coast midwives had suggested was true.  I could have done it.  With enough patience and the proper support, I could birth a baby.

And so I was So Excited to push her out.  Feel that ring of fire.  And then her head.  (The midwives all kinda exclaimed as her head came through and I thought it was just that I had reached that point....)   Then her body and oh my gawd.  I'd had a baby.

But there was blood.  Pools of it.  I noticed it as I sat back against E and we both stared in awe at our sweet Artemisia.  I was aware the midwives were busily looking at me while completely not interrupting our moments of bonding.  They seemed interested in me getting my placenta out pretty soon, which part of my brain made a checkmark by as slightly strange after all of the patience, but a silly placenta after a big baby head, well, I was more than happy to acquiesce....  And found out later it was to assure that I was safe and healthy :)

We held and loved her and awed at her until her cord stopped beating and was cut.  She was alert and I think I was a little in shock that the whole thing had ended up with such a perfect little healthy baby.

Turns out, my placenta detached in a weird way, causing immense bleeding.  I love the fact that something kinda big like that could happen and my midwives were able to be alert without freaking or taking that bonding moment away from us at all.

It was just a couple of minutes before 2AM when she made her arrival, and the after "stuff' took us until almost 6.  I was interested in showering.  My midwives weren't so into the idea, but humored me.  I fainted.  Ditto when I went to pee.  Ditto again when I stood up.  Turns out I lost about a quart of blood and that's a lot harder to deal with than I would have guessed ;)

So the lovely midwives sponged me clean, while they cleaned up our bedroom that had turned into a scene set from Dexter.  They made me eggs and toast.  Spoon fed me yogurt after I fainted again and couldn't sit up.  Started laundry.

Then they mentioned Zia had come out posterior. Which made sense.  No wonder she'd had such a rough time getting around that last bend, she was facing the wrong way :)  Which increases a baby's head circumference by, like, 12 feet or something ;)

Which leads to lots of stitches for the mother :)

After the stitches and the weighing and the settling, our amazing midwives headed home so that Superman and I could sleep.

I think that's all of the details.  I have to go, at any rate, because Our Saint has just brought me roast and root vegetables, the better to remake about 1/4 of your blood supply with...  and it tastes So Good.

Still pregnant...

I caught a pic of the cat and P cuddling while I read them a story.  The child cuddles this cat so much during the day its unreal.  E and I have been wondering how the whole manhandling, erm, constant cuddling thing will all play out with a baby rather than the feline...

Obviously, still no baby ;)  Last night, as we took our post-dinner walk, the child wished on stars.  For his sister to come.  N.O.W.  He was a bit disappointed today when the stars hadn't done his bidding ;)

But too busy being excited by our other imminent arrival to dwell on that too much.  My mother arrives tomorrow!!!  We are beyond excited (and thankful).  Hopefully Little Miss won't make her appearance too late into my mother's visit...

But other than that hope, I'm still not feeling completely fed up.  Which is nice.  Since I felt finished a few months ago ;)  I'm just enjoying the ease of these last days as the mother of a singleton.  Or, honestly, trying to enjoy them...  I've been uncharacteristically grumpy the last two days!  Typically, I can sense this and get past it pretty quickly, but its a rut I keep galumphing into, despite my inner chatter about how great life is.  You know, the sort of grumpy where each item that, for gawd's sake, doesn't defy gravity and actually falls to the ground, from whence you must bend over to pick it back up -  just totally pisses you off.   That sort of grumpy.  And as I breathed deeply through yet another annoyance this afternoon, I thought, heavens to Betsy, this child can't come until I get my head on straight!  Who wants to labor under a dark cloud...

I don't know if its the sleep deprivation finally wearing me down, or just feeling like there are so many things I'd like to do that I physically can't, but I'm hoping its just the freakishly full moon, so that this silliness is but a passing pfffft :)

I mostly hope it for the child.  Who is still being so empathetic that it breaks my heart to be anything less than ideal around him.

We have our 40 week appointment tomorrow, hopefully our last!  And then we're off to a park day with a bunch of homeschoolers and then to the airport!  No room for brooding (or laboring, actually) tomorrow.... ;)

39 weeks, 3 days...

Hehe. It has started.  The emails, the texts, the calls.  No, no baby yet :)  Maybe I'll do a brief post each night to mitigate the messages...

But it officially feels imminent.  As P explained to E tonight, when we were discussing something we'd like to do before the baby comes, "Papa!  Papa, the baby could be born, anytime.  Tomorrow even!"  And though contractions keep me up part of the night and the FIVE pee breaks a night are helping me to really get used to that constant newborn need to nurse, I'm thinking it may still be a while.  P was a freaking hardboiled egg (ten days late!) and I haven't hit that ohmygod-I-can't-stand- to-be-pregnant-for-another-second feeling yet.  Yet ;)   In fact, other than the fairly regular belly bashing (gauging my girth seems to be outside of my abilities lately:), it all feels much easier.  I know not being sick helps (!) but its also at the point where I've been pregnant for So Long that it finally feels normal :)

But enough baby babble.  The stuff spread all over our kitchen table (above pic) made me smile the other day, so I had to snap a shot.  This is our life.  The child drags in nature at every event.  There were seedpods, a captured bug, a crown of sticky burs, a seashell and a few old cicadas thrown in to explore the mix.  I can't seem to keep up with the collections, so I think we might make a giant project out of it.  Or maybe two.  I have some plans for our rainy winter that I'm kinda excited about...

Meanwhile, the child is growing into a stage of happy helpfulness.  Of course, bursting with baby, this seems like ideal timing.  In fact, he even stated he'd like to do some "chores." We already give him money every month, its something he was interested in a year or so ago and he is still very happily collecting his savings.  (He's saving for a house;)  Then, a few weeks ago, he said he'd like to earn his money.  Tricky, tricky spot...

We told him we were all for him helping - super yay!  But that we weren't super comfy "paying" him to help.  That, to us at least, family just helps family, well, just to help ;)  Much like we give him his share of the family money, just cuz he's part of the family.  No strings attached. I make him breakfast out of love, not duty.  We had a nice chat about it.

At the end of the conversation, he'd decided to get his money in smaller, weekly (rather than monthly) installments and do chores each week.  This Sunday was the end of the first week and when I went to give him his Sunday sum, he reported he was no longer interested.  He'd like to help out just to be helpful ;)  He didn't take the money :)

This actually ties into the table, I swear :)  So, today, as I was fixing our food, he noticed the table was, erm, less than pristine, as he went to set out the silverware and plates (something he independently started doing a few weeks ago).  So he grabbed a rag and our vinegar spray and went to cleaning.  As I sat the food down, he finished up and grinned at me, "Arent' you glad I'm so helpful?"  Lol :))))

His comment reminded me of something he'd said last month as we headed to the grocer.  Something to the extent (oh that I could remember his quote!) of how great of a kid he is.  Apparently, we have no need to worry about his self-esteem at this point :)  But he seems to have it grounded in some sort of spiritual spot too...  As we cuddled to sleep the other night (oh the simple sweetness of the last nights as a family of three!) I kissed him and thanked him for being mine.  "Your welcome,"  he said, "But you should really thank the Universe.  I wasn't in charge of that."  Phew.  Self esteem?  Affirmative.  God complex?  Negative ;)

Back in time for Not Back To School

Oh my goodness, how good it feels to finally feel better!  Three weeks is too long to be sick in the summer.  And way too long for a six year old to put up with :)

And so when I offered an outing to OMSI on Thursday, the child raced to the car (in his pajamas:)  We had a lovely outing before our midwife appointment and it was just So Nice to hang out together again.

Then, Friday was the Not Back To School party for homeschoolers, held at our little neighborhood amusement park (the one P previously visited with Uncle Seth).  The child raced out the door for this too!  It was a hoot to see how many homeschoolers there are here in Portland (lots) and great to be on another adventure with the Little Man.  (Well, mostly great, minus the extra thirty pounds in the 90+ heat - ouch!  Oy the timing;)

After playing a few bean bag toss games, the kid was ready for rides... only to realize he would be riding solo this time.  A sad, sad moment.  Honestly, the lady at the counter hadn't even asked me if I was buying a ticket for myself.  After all, each ride accompanied one of these signs:

 
Now, don't get me started on Pregnancy being listed along side "ailments" here, but the general gist is correct.  Nine months along and a swirling dervish don't necessarily need to meet.  In pondering this reality, it was in this moment that it really struck home how much empathy the child has shown the last few months.  I mean, he was really, really bummed I couldn't ride with him.  But he didn't beg, he didn't barter or badger.  He merely sunk onto a shady bench and looked so sad my heart broke.

This is the child who has started playing solo while I make breakfast.  The child who has offered me to stay in bed if I'm still tired.  The child who, when we're reading at night and I have to take a bathroom break, tries to help me unravel myself from my pillowed cocoon and stand.  The child who, watching me have a hard time get comfy one evening, patted my cheek and said, "It must be really hard being sick and pregnant."  The child who tries to help pull me to standing from the couch.  The child who offered to do the dishes the other day.

That child, that sweet child who's been putting up with less and less of me had finally had enough.  He said in a shaky voice that he sure wished there was something there that we could do together.   Oh, the disappointment was palpable.  Here he'd come, all excited, to an amusement park, and now he felt like he couldn't do anything there.  And then we spied the miniature golf.  Phew ;)

18 holes later :)  the kid was ready to ride solo.  Heck, a number of the rides he was interested in wouldn't allow any grown-ups, ailments or no.  His smile grew, he ran into a few kids he knew, and the fun rose alongside the temperature.

Then I joined him on the tiny train that rides around the park.  He was soooo pleased I agreed to ride something it was precious.  As we rounded a bend, it jiggled a little bit and P grabbed me, asking, "Does that hurt you too much, Mama?"  Could a heart just burst?  Seriously.

Just about the time we were so sweaty we were ready to bail, a buddy of his arrived and reinvigorated the afternoon.  Now he had a friend to ride with too!  Granted, at different heights and different comfort levels, they had to talk a lot to settle on what they would ride together, but they worked it all out quite happily.  And we closed down the amusement park that day :)

The Waiting Game

(We don't have a full length mirror.  When Seth and Alicia were here we walked past a very reflective window and I caught sight of my size.... "I'm huge!" I gasped.  They all looked at me like, um, yah, that's what everyone's been telling you... :)  I just tipped 140 lbs and my feet feel every extra ounce...)  At any rate, here's the nine month bump.



P heard word that the baby is now full grown and I found him bouncing on the bed the other morning, chanting, "Finally, finally, the baby is coming!"  When he caught sight of me he said, "Isn't it So Exciting?!  The baby will be here So Soon!"  He is beyond excited (having been looking forward to a sibling for, oh, say, 4 years or so;).

And while I'm really looking forward to meeting Little Miss, I'm glad she's waiting just a bit.  For two reasons, really.  I have been so sick.  The last cold turned nasty and I finally fulfilled my midwives' orders by staying in bed for the better part of two days.  I didn't even cook dinner (thank gawd for the awesome Polish lady's cart around the corner!).  The child listened to books and watched movies and played quietly.  And at the end of these two days, as E and I lay in the dark, ready to pass out, the child climbed allll over his father, trying his best to start something.  Anything.  Ethan responded kindly, but, being so tired, he didn't rise to the tickle challenge.  Finally, the child moaned, "I need to playyyyyyy!  I've been ignored for two days, and I'm sick of movies and sitting around!"   Ah, the guilt.  Its just never-ending :)  But, honestly, he was an angel through it all.

And the second reason I've been happy to wait is that, here in Oregon at least, the official age for homeschool filing is 7 before September 1.  "Please come after the first" I whispered to her every day...  I mean, who doesn't want an extra year with no expectations? :)  I'm loving the fact that we don't even have to file this year for P (not that filing was so rough last year in NYC or anything, its just nice:)

And so we have made it.

But the best part about being so sick while being so very pregnant is that it trumps the big bump hanging off of you.  You may not be able to lay back and relax (because your silly baby, while not breech, is happily hanging in a posterior position - darnit - requiring forward leans and a straight back at all times to encourage her to turn).  You may not be able to douse your woes with a potent OTC.  But having a hard time catching your breath makes kicks to the bladder non-noticeable.   And since you're unable to sleep through the sore throat and mouth breathing, all of those mid-night bathroom breaks are really just nicely timed options to blow your schnoz.  And the immense pressure in your pelvic varicosity every time you hack and sneeze and blow will make the normal pregnancy pressure seem like a walk in the park.  Yup, I'm thinking once this crud passes, my last days as a beached whale should feel like a holiday!

A holiday that needs to get busy, real fast.  After a week of weakness, the house is in shambles.  Yes, the Mr. is fabulous about helping keep the dishes done and the child cared for.  But those drawers that exploded in the craft/dining room?  Forgettaboutit.  Not his area ;)  And the toys strewn about or the (insert anything) piled around, well, not really something that bothers him.  Which is nice (who needs a neat freak looking over your shoulder?!)  But, the house looks likes its been battling the stomach flu and barfing its innards up (aka, had a six year old busying himself in an unbothered fashion;) and this absolutely defies my every nesting instinct.  I can't even imagine laboring in this house at the moment. Not that there is floor space to even place the birthing tub right now...

But, other than working a little Mary Poppins magic, we should be good to go for the birth (which I know is getting close, as friends and family have started muttering the words "epidural" and "hospital" and "doctors" and "why??" to me;)  The birthing kit has arrived. The extra sheets and towels are washed and ready.  We (er, E) put together P's old stroller bassinet so the baby has a night-time spot until I'm comfy with her tiny-ness in my bed.  I sewed some wool diaper covers from recycled sweaters (despite my complete lack of sewing knowledge, these instructions were really quite doable!).  And the child, he lovingly prepared her a library and a play space.

The slanted ceiling of our bedroom creates a little cubby space dubbed "the secret passageway."  The child set up his own library there and then his doll house.  With the short ceiling, I've grimaced at the very thought of bending over back there.... meaning the space had disintegrated into mayhem in the last month.  In a fit of nesting last week (how can I possibly have a baby with this crawl space messy? Lol.)  I crawled back and tidied.

It is so sublime cleaning for this child because he is so very thankful.  When he went into his space the next day he instantly noticed the difference and started ooing and ahhing and thanking me and telling me how amazing it looked :)  Then, with all of the organized space, he was ready to set up his farm.  Hours went by and his adoration of his passageway is at a new height.  So I guess it only seemed natural to him that he would make it a happy place for the baby too.  As I lay wheezing in bed a few days later, he dug out the box of board books and baby toys.  (I swear "curator" is a future possibility for the kid, cuz he loves to arrange and classify and display collections.)  On the floor with a soft sheepskin rug now rests a sweet compilation of his toys from his earliest days.  And on the shelf beside his books are carefully organized his earliest board books.  I had wondered if these would be "loaned" to the baby someday.  Apparently, they have already been given.  Here's hoping that spirit of sharing continues....

P, setting up his farm in the passageway.

At any rate, now that I'm at the end (still in shock over this, strangely enough...  Like nine months of prep just hasn't been enough?!?)  and have only a blog post or two to remember it all by, I thought I'd post the highlights.  Because, much to my child's dismay, we won't be walking this particular path again (to which he's suggested adoption lol:)

Favorite Pregnancy Tidbits:

The shock of actually getting a positive pregnancy test.
Telling P we would have a baby.  And watching him shine.
The relief of hearing a heartbeat.
Sharing the news with my parents.
P yelling to the baby through my belly.  Or singing to the baby.
Feeling all of her sharp body parts bump and roll.
P and E being able to feel her daily hiccups.
Name picking with the boys.  A real riot.
Seeing how excited the boys are to have a girl.
Feeling so loved and supported by friends and family - their excitement is awesome.
Knowing that this awful pregnancy acne will finally go away (Right?  It will, right?!?!)
The ease with which I can down an entire cantaloupe.  Or a bag of grapes.  Or a bag of cherries.  Or (fill in your favorite fruit:)
That, after all of the ouches, we will have a baby :))))
And that,  finally, P will be what he has always desired.  A brother.