Jennifer’s

Let’s take a quick moment to review just how HUGE I was just a few months ago:

(37 weeks pregnant:  BLAH!)

(40 weeks: Induction day.  Can you see the RELIEF?)

It’s been nearly three months since Dean’s birth, which means its been six weeks since I was released to resume all normal activities, which let’s be honest the only activity I really cared about was a return to exercise.  Call me vain, but after gaining 30 lbs and being so miserable at the end I was ready to whip this mound of flesh into some semblance of shape.

I gained the same amount of weight this time around as I did with Isabella, but, for me at least, this pregnancy’s weight did not pile on nor did it come off in the same way as the first.  Perhaps those differences can be attributed to age, gender of the baby, my fitness level before and during the pregnancy, stress, or the unknown, but all I know is I sprinted home from my six week’s post-partum appointment and promptly popped in Gillian Michael’s No More Trouble Zones and never looked back.

I also downloaded the Couch to 5k app and have been faithfully following the 3 day/week running program.  I had been running during this pregnancy, but at 36 weeks I was told to cease all unnecessary activity, so when it came time to start running again I thought it wise to start out slowly.  Six weeks later I know this was a really smart decision as I’ve not suffered any injuries and have been able to easily follow the program.  I dare to say it’s been a little easy since I already have years of running under my belt, but I like that I am injury free, am getting stronger, and most importantly, I love being able to cue up the music, turn on the app and Nike+, and mindlessly run while someone else dictates what I am doing and for how long. 

 In fact, I wish someone would create a marathon training app that would do the same thing.  Not that I am in any kind of shape to run another marathon yet, but I’ve got my eyes set on one late spring of 2011 or mid fall of 2011.  (It all depends on if I can talk Melissa to run Chicago with me! )

The other thing factoring into my get “hot” again pursuit is the fact that I am successfully breastfeeding this time around.  Everything I’ve read says it is okay to exercise regularly, but I think I am still a tad trepidatious about exercising as rigorously as I would like on a regular basis.  If I felt truly free to exercise as I wish I would probably be at my pre-pregnancy weight by now instead of 5lbs away.  Those 5lbs have been lingering for a few weeks now, so I suspect that a few of them, at least, are settled in my milk jugs and won’t disappear until the little one stops suckling at the teat.

I also want to try Gillian Michael’s Making the Cut diet and exercise program, but I fear the diet will mess with my milk supply.  It’s not  so much a “diet” in the sense of really restricting calories as it is a “diet” that helps you eat for your metabolic type with the purpose of helping you shed fat to showcase the muscles beneath.  For my metabolic type I would still consume 1200 calories, which I’m not even sure I actually consume on a daily basis, so it isn’t like I would be starving myself, but I would hate for nursing to end because of my vanity so I am being responsible and holding off on this part of O.G.H.A. until Dean is weened.

But really, who cares about any of this, if there aren’t some before and work in progress shots.  Please bare in mind that no miracles have been performed in the six weeks since I began exercising again, but nonethless I think you can see that some small change is being made.

Before:

(This is a few days after my six week appointment.  Isabella and I were playing princess.  That look of displeasure is less about playing dress up and more about the dismal state of affairs that was my gut.)

Work in Progress:

(I guess that goofy expression in the first work in progress picture is my way of saying what did you expect, it’s only been six weeks!  I know the arm shots are silly, especially given I really don’t have muscular arms, but I wanted some sort of documentation of how they look now so I can compare them after I do Making the Cut.  Plus, this wouldn’t really be a great blog post if there weren’t some pretentious pictures!)

There are times I am sitting on the couch with myBrest Friend secured around my waist, Dean latched onto a boob, and Isabella sitting as close to me as she can without actually sitting on me with her thumb in her mouth and her other hand seeking out the seam on my shirt’s collar that I am pretty sure my heart will explode at the wonder of being completely at home with two little ones using my body for sustenance or comfort.

There are times Dean is crying (screeching really) because he is hungry or has just crapped himself and Isabella is yelling out, “I have to go potty.  I have to go potty!” that I am pretty sure I will lose my ever loving mind.  How is it possible they can sync up their evacuations?

There are times we are in public and a sweet elderly couple will comment on our beautiful children, Isabella and Dean, that it makes me remember to slow down and really take in the splendor of their infancy and toddlerdom because all too soon I will be the wrinkled lady commenting on someone else’s beauties.

There are times I am so exhausted that I want to hop in my car, check into a hotel, and not come out for a week.

There are times I am consumed by horrible thoughts of accidents, childhood cancer, death that I can hardly breathe.

There are times Dean smiles at me so big or Isabella walks by on her way to her next adventure and shouts, “I love you, Mom!” that I want to stop time and live in a world where I am always their center.

There are times I am wracked by the guilt of not staying home with my babies that I can only hope and pray I am the only one who will be scarred for life.

There are times Isabella and Dean are sleeping that I sneak into their rooms to touch their soft heads, kiss their chubby cheeks, and say a quick prayer of thanks for being entrusted with their lives.

There are times being a parent just seems too much: too much poop, too much snot, too much barf, too much laundry, too much whining, too much correcting and correcting over and over, too much pushing aside what I really want to do to play the “castle game” or once again whip out a boob, but then I contrast that with a life without kids and what I come up with is a life that is too empty: too empty of sweet kisses and hugs, too empty of impromptu snuggles, too empty of that new baby smell, too empty of watching a child wake up to the wonder of the world, too empty of watching your little one bravely hurl herself off the side of the pool all the while trusting you will catch her and help her once more return to safety, too empty of little coos and his little head burrowing into your shoulder, too empty of seeing your parents hold and marvel at your children.

Dean’s been smiling for real for the last week or so, but given that the Woolsey is strong in this one we’ve had difficulty turning the smiles into a photo op.  The other day I managed to capture a few with my phone, thus the poor quality.  We do actually own a really nice digital camera, but why would we use it when we can capture Dean’s life with poor quality?  Regardless, this kid is cute and rather looks like an old man with a bad piece:

First Labor

• Induction
• Labored 16 hours
• About 30 minutes of pushing
• Crapped myself while pushing
• Baby girl 7 lbs 15 oz
• Peed right away

Second Labor

• Induction
• Labored 4 hours
• About 2 minutes of pushing
• Did not crap myself while pushing
• Baby boy 8 lbs 5 oz
• Couldn’t pee as I’d gone minutes before Dean was born, which resulted in a catheter post delivery.  I would have preferred I crapped myself again.

First Recovery:

• Two nights’ stay in hospital
• Very tender girl parts in hospital and for a few weeks at home
• Stitches b/c of doctor
• Lots of rest
• Cleared at 6 weeks.  It took another two months before I could run and not look for my uterus roadside.
• Physical therapy for bladder control issues (only when running, so don’t get the idea I started wearing adult diapers.  By the way, in the interest of full disclosure, the therapy only slightly helped.  I may need surgery.)

Second Recovery:

• Two nights’ stay in hospital
• Girl parts somewhat tender (only one icepack in the hospital)
• Stitches b/c of baby
• Decent amount of rest
• Cleared at 6 weeks.  Started running w/in two days of clearance.  It’s slow going, but my uterus is behaving!
• Surgery for bladder control issues?  So far things are good.

First Attempt at Nursing:

• EPIC FAIL

Second Attempt at Nursing:

• EPIC SUCCESS

First Experience of Sleep Deprivation:

• Lasted about two weeks.  Once we figured out she was starving and resolved that little issue she started sleeping through the night at week 3.

Second Experience of Sleep Deprivation:

• He had about three rough nights spread out over the first two weeks.  He, too, started sleeping through the night at week 3 with 6 hour stretches.  He is now up to 8-10 hour stretches.  And now I have cursed myself by putting that out there.
• I also have the luxury of having Brian home to help with Isabella in the mornings, so I get to sleep ridiculously late!

First Experience of Being a Parent:

• I remember Brian commenting he was a little shocked they actually let her come home with us.  What did we know about being parents?
• I was very thankful for my extensive babysitting experience.
• Hours upon hours of studying her little face, talking to her, sneaking in cuddles (she has always been far too curious for cuddles), reading, playing, etc. and marveling that the tiny miracle before me is mine to care for, nurture, and rear for the rest of my life.  What an awe inspiring sense of responsibility.
• A lot of book and blog reading and calls home to my Mom that began with, “Do you remember if…”.
• In the beginning, especially, running to her the minute she started crying wondering what was wrong and how could I fix it.
• Took her everywhere with me.

Second Experience of Being a Parent:

• Far less nervous about bringing a tiny human home.
• Thankful for the prior experience and knowledge gained through the first.
• Hours spent marveling over the faces of our two beautiful kids, talking to them, reading books, cuddling Dean while Isabella sits by my side, and looking forward to the day they begin to interact more.  He follows Isabella with his eyes anytime she appears on the scene.  He thinks she is pretty cool!
• A little surprised I find myself old enough to be the mother of two.  It truly is the best job I have ever had, even if it means I get peed on, crapped on, snotted on, vomited on, and kneed in the very tender chestal region upon occasion.  I hope that our parenting results in two confident, intelligent, and caring individuals who look back on childhood with fondness and a sense of love that carries them through life long after Brian and I are gone.
• Discerning which cries need immediate attention and which ones can be ignored for a few minutes or twenty.
• I’ve only gone out with both kids by myself two times, but I have gone several places by myself, which was something I rarely did with just Isabella.  I ran to Walmart the other day and I swear I now know what it is like to take crack and I don’t even especially like Walmart…or crack for that matter.  I’m slowly learning that it really is okay for me to take a little bit of time for myself away from the kids.  No one’s going to strip my Mother of the Year award from me if I do.

First Love at First Sight:

• When Isabella was born Brian said he knew that love at first sight truly existed.  Seeing her for the first time I immediately had this feeling that I had known her forever and had loved her all my life.  I hope that each day, even on the bad ones, that she gets a sense of how immense our love for her really is.

Second Love at First Sight:

• It’s no secret that I was very nervous about a boy, and goodness knows all the things I fear are still years away from fruition, but I truly cannot imagine another baby more perfect for us. The minute I saw his chubby cheeks I was hooked! A few days after bringing Dean home I whispered in his ear that he was exactly what our family needed.  We had a pretty crappy winter and spring and while Dean’s birth doesn’t change that fact, he is a perfect reminder that there is still much to be thankful for and to celebrate.

This time around I was hoping to go into labor myself, but alas it was not to be for us.  At about 37 weeks I suddenly measured about a week and a half ahead of schedule, which made my doctor pause and speculate that Dean was going to be a bigger baby.  (At that point she guessed that he was about 7 lbs 5 oz.)  She was willing to let me finish out the school year if Dean didn’t come before then, but she didn’t want me to go any longer than that so we scheduled an induction for the 22nd, the day after my due date.  Even though I dreaded another long, drawn out induction I was glad to hear there was going to be an end to things!

Saturday, May 22nd, I woke up not feeling 100%.  I sat around for a bit, played with Isabella, and then turned her over to Grams and Sir and went upstairs to sleep off the funk I was feeling.  At about 9:30 the hospital called to say they were ready for me to come to start the induction.  Fortunately, I had packed my bag a few days prior so all we needed to do to get ready was jump through the shower and say goodbye to Isabella.  Let me just say now that telling her goodbye was extremely hard to do.  Normally, when we leave her with Grams and Sir she doesn’t even blink an eye about our departure, but this time she knew something was different and that when we returned her world was going to be completely altered!  Consequently, she was sobbing as was I.  In fact, I spent the bigger part of the drive to the hospital crying.  Part of my sadness was that I thought I would not be able to see her again until we brought Dean home.  The last time I had been to the hospital was to visit Brian’s cousin after she gave birth and at that time they were not allowing kids under 12 in patient rooms.  I knew we would be there for at least two days, and it upset me greatly to think of her wondering where I was that entire time.

We arrived at the hospital around 11:30, got checked in right away, and were whisked off to the induction room.  After some general questions, getting things set up, and a visit from my doctor who explained that she had a patient in labor at another hospital (where she was actually on call that weekend) but things were going quickly so she expected to be able to come back in time to deliver me, the induction began.  With Isabella I had to go through three rounds of the gels, which took over six hours itself, but this time I came into the hospital at 3 centimeters, so Dr. J said I would probably only need one gel, two at most. I was really hoping that things would proceed much more quickly this time around, but not so fast that Dr. J wouldn’t make it back.    She knew I was concerned about having to deliver with a doctor I had never met, so she assured me I was in good hands with the nurse who had been assigned to me.  It turns out she is the nurse that Dr. J hand picked for her own son’s delivery.  She told me that Sherri, my nurse, was a no nonsense kind of nurse.  She would stay calm no matter the situation and would be a great support throughout, which made me feel better about things and as labor progressed Sherri proved herself to be exactly as Dr. J described her.

(Seriously, could I be any fatter? All fashions and accessories courtesy of Thunderbird Hospital.)

After the gel was administered, I had to stay in bed for about 30 minutes and then I had to walk around for an hour.  My instructions were to walk for the majority of the time unless I started to feel terrible or started to bleed. There really are few places one can walk in a hospital for an ENTIRE HOUR without retracing your steps a THOUSAND and ONE times.  We toured the gift shop, the cafeteria, the lobby, and the halls for about 25 minutes and then a wave of uncomfortableness hit me.  I found a bathroom and noted that I was beginning to bleed, so we headed back up to the maternity floor, notified my nurse, and headed to the room.  We walked around for a bit longer after resting, but I was feeling really crampy and just wanted to get back to the room.  (I know some people like to move around during labor, but for me it is far better to be in bed so I can focus on getting through the pain.)

After the first gel things progressed enough that Sherri decided not to do the second gel and move me into the labor and delivery room.  At this point we contacted my parents to give them an update and to let them know they could bring Isabella up to see us.  (It turns out the age restriction had been lifted and she could visit us in labor and delivery and later in my hospital room, so I was pretty anxious to see her for a bit before things started to get really tough.)

(Isabella on her way to visit us!)

We were moved into the labor room around 2:00. I was strapped to the monitor so the nurse could begin to monitor my contractions, but nothing was showing up on the monitor, which was weird because I was definitely experiencing some contractions.  Five monitors later Sherri finally found a monitor that worked and as it showed, I was experiencing some pretty big contractions, so things were moving along nicely.  My parents and Isabella showed up during this time, so we visited for an hour or so before Dr. J reappeared to check me and break my water.  She then said she would  hang out a bit to see how things went.  Soon after she broke my water the contractions became more intense, so I told my parents to leave with Isabella because I didn’t want her to see me in pain.

(Isabella giving Mommy and Baby Brother love one last time before he’s born!)

At that point it was just Brian and me in the room.  We put on some Beatles and both tried to rest/relax as best as we could because it was obvious those moments were fleeting.  Sherri came back in about thirty minutes later to check on my pain level.  I told her it was definitely increasing: about a seven on the 10 point scale.  She did a quick check and said I was about 7 or 8 cm.  During this, a new nurse came in and introduced herself as the nurse who was going to take over as it was time for a duty change in the shift schedule.  Sherri looked at her, looked at me, and the said, “I’m not going anywhere.  I am seeing her through this.  Who decided we needed to switch right now?  You just go to where they assigned me and take over there.  I’m staying put.”  I could have kissed Sherri on the lips right then!  With Isabella I had three different nurses because things took so long to progress.  It turns out all three were amazing and all three came in at just the right time during each point of labor, but this time the shift was happening so close to the end and I had already bonded really well with Sherri that I was in a bit of panic about losing her right before the real action began.

( About 7-8 cm here; thus, the concentration.)

The nurse obviously recognized that Sherri wasn’t going anywhere, so she left us to it.  Sherri helped me to the restroom for one last time and back into bed, and with the next contraction I looked at Brian and said, “I need to push.”  He told Sherri, who thankfully was still in the room.  She asked me if I was serious and all I could do was nod because I was concentrating on not pushing until she told me I could.  She immediately went into action setting up the table and paging Dr. J who appeared in what seemed like seconds.  Sherri informed her I was ready to push, so Dr. J checked me and I was at 10 cm.  To help put things in perspective for you it had been less than five minutes since Sherri checked me and I was at 7-8 cm, so it was obvious the last parts of labor were going to be fast and furious.  As Sherri continued to get things set up Brian and Dr. J each grabbed a hand and let me squeeze the holy heck out of them through the next contraction.  Bless Brian’s heart, he even managed to mop my brow with a cold cloth, which was just about the sweetest, most caring gesture.

By the next contraction things were set up, Dr. J was in position, and I was finally able to push.   Dr. J reminded me my goal was to push three times for a count of ten each time and then the pushing began.  During the first round of ten she commented that baby Dean had a lot of hair and by the third round of pushing she told me to just keep pushing past ten because he was almost out.  A few more seconds of pushing and we had a baby boy!

(Mere seconds after Dean was born!)

I immediately felt a huge wave of relief come over me.  I was so thankful that labor went quickly and with no complications and that both Dr. J and Sherri had been on hand,  but most of all I was just thankful to be done being pregnant, to finally meet Dean, and to move on to this next phase of our lives.

During all of that Brian managed to quickly text my parents that I was ready to deliver.  My mom thought he was joking because that had left the hospital about 40 minutes prior.  They had taken Isabella to dinner, so they finished eating and made their way back up to see their grandson.  Dean and I got cleaned up and anticipated a move to our room, but we ended up waiting in the labor room for a couple hours while the hospital cleaned rooms on the maternity ward.  The nurses kept apologizing, but it was actually better to be in the labor room because it is so roomy.  My parents and Isabella came in to see us, so we were able to get some great family pics in the first hours of Dean’s life.  Isabella was immediately smitten with Baby Brother.  She kept squealing, “He’s SO cute!  Where are his teeth?”

(Grams and Dean)

(Sir and Dean)

(Family of FOUR!)

Dr. J and Sherri came back in to check on me and to comment on how well I did during labor.  Sherri paid me a major compliment; she said that I made natural childbirth look easy and that I should teach the natural childbirth classes at the hospital.  I know the doctor and nurses will say just about anything to encourage you during labor, but given I had already produced the goods, I was really appreciative of their comments.  Going through labor, natural or otherwise, is nothing short of some very hard, intense physical work; it’s always nice to hear that you came through something like that and impressed people who see women labor day in and day out.

After being moved to our room, Brian, Dean, and I settled in for the night.  Our room was tucked back in a corner of the ward, so we had little interruptions.  At first the nurses came in pretty frequently to check on us and my pain, but once they realized we were really doing fine and that I wasn’t taking any Tylenol or Motrin or requesting ice packs for my nether region they sort of left us to our own devices with the exception of the mandatory checks of our vitals or newborn screening stuff.  Dean slept really well in the hospital, so I was able to get some rest.  Brian slept in a rather uncomfortable bed/chair the first night, so he was pretty much out of it the next morning.  We stayed another night in the hospital, which was again, a decent night’s rest for me, but at that point I was over being in the hospital and just wanted to get home to my bed, my shower, and our lives.

And so it’s been three weeks since Dean’s birth.  He really is a good baby.  He cries when he’s hungry, before he poops, and when he needs to be changed.  He is still in that eat, sleep, and poop mode, but he is definitely more alert for far longer with each day.  He is ever bit as strong as Isabella was as a baby; he too held up his head from day one!  He is a far better eater than she ever was, though.  Nursing is going really well this time around, which is a blessing as much as it is a curse.  I am glad it’s working out, but it sure stinks being the only one who can feed him.  I am pumping from time to time, but HOLY MOSES that thing makes me want to curl up in fetal position.  Nothing like feeling like a cow being milked for 15-20 minutes!

The good news is he eats a lot during the day and only one-two times at night.  He generally eats one last time around 11:30 and then sleeps until about 4;30-5:00 at which point he eats for a few minutes and then sleeps for another three-four hours.  Each night finds him going a tad longer between feedings; he had his longest stretch of sleep the other night.  He went 6 1/2 hours before he wanted a quick snack and then he slept another three hours! (There is something to be said for big, fat babies!)

Once he gets his wonky arms under control and can get to his thumb (he tries so hard right now) I think he will make it even longer at night (fingers crossed)!

I am THRILLED to announce that I am currently suffering my thirty billionth sinus funk of this pregnancy!¬† You have to love this time of year in AZ when the weather switches from 100’s to low 80’s in a matter of 24 hours…bring on the mucusy funk.

Isabella threw up twice Sunday: she walked into our room at 3 a.m. and announced that she had “coughed up a sugar cube.”¬† Not knowing what that meant, I waited a few seconds to see if Brian would go investigate, but all I got from him was a chuckle followed by a snore, so I hauled myself out of bed.¬† Sure enough, there was indeed a chunk of thrown up bits that looked like Fruit Loops, so I can only surmise that is from where the sugar cube analogy stemmed.¬† I pulled all the linens off the bed, cleaned up Isabella, and took her back to bed with me because after all of that I wasn’t about to make the bed again.¬† She slept okay, as did her father through the whole ordeal,¬†and seemed to be fine when she and I got up that morning.¬† We played quietly with toys so as not to wake Brian, who after all was nearly 40 weeks pregnant at the time and could certainly use some extra sleep- oh wait… So as I was saying before I got all bitter wife there, we were playing quietly when all of the sudden Isabella heaved and vomit started rolling out of her mouth.¬† Fortunately, we were playing on the play rug, so I didn’t have to worry about the actual carpet being ruined.¬† This time around, to his credit, Brian did get up and cleaned the rug while Isabella and I rinsed off and started yet another round of laundry.¬† For the remainder of the day she was snuggly, fairly subdued, and took a lengthy nap, so we thought it a fluke thing.

Enter Monday night: after a lovely evening at a softball banquet, Isabella and her Daddy crashed in her bed.  I stayed up watching some crap TV and just as I was beginning to get ready for bed I  heard Isabella sobbing outside the bathroom door.  I open it up to find her being held by Brian whose face is covered in a mixture of horror and anger.  It turns out Isabella had thrown up AGAIN, this time all over the bed and Brian.  (I will admit a secret part of me was beyond thrilled that he had finally been initiated into the part of parenthood that results in being plastered in projectile vomit; although, I am sure if you asked Brian he would say that that part of my personality is not such a secret.)  As Brian had picked her up out of bed she began another round of barfing that resulted in two sides of her dresser, the trundle mattress and trundle, her chair, and carpet being covered. 

I ordered Brian and Isabella into the shower and began a nearly two hour clean up session.  Again, to his credit, Brian, after being vomited out of his slumber and showering a very upset toddler, shampooed the carpet and mattress.  Isabella and I proceeded to hit the couch, so I could keep a listen out for the washing machine and dryer while she slept.  Three loads later I was finally able to sleep as well.

Enter Wednesday: I woke up with some major tummy crampage going on.¬† Now, given that I am due tomorrow and that I have never experienced going into labor on my own my mind immediately went to thinking this could possibly be the beginning of labor.¬† This on one part thrilled me because yes, I would finally be done, but it also made me a tad nervous because, well that whole hours of labor and pain thing aside, we still had finals to get through at school AND no one to watch Isabella as my mom wasn’t flying in until the afternoon.

As all this was running through my mind Brian came into the bathroom and announced he felt terrible: headache and stomach ache.  I then realized we could both be battling whatever Isabella had, which let me tell you that little realization was far worse of a thought than I could be going into labor because now I could be going into labor within a few days AND be battling the stomach ailment.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

And oh, what a joy yesterday turned out to be.¬† Both Brian and I were miserable all day at school and he finally had several bouts of what he deemed a “horrifying biathlon” of stomach issues…I leave you to figure out what he meant.¬† I never actually had anything come out of any orifice, but man, driving to get my mom at the airport may have been the single hardest thing I’ve had to endure to date.

Brian is once again not feeling well today.¬† I’ve been a little better, but I have eaten very little since yesterday morning.¬† At my doctor’s appointment today I was down 3 lbs from last week, so there’s a positive, right?¬† The lack of appetite and general nutrition over the last 36 hours or so does not bode well, though, for my energy level come the big L day and given that I get rather cranky when I don’t eat that labor and delivery room could be one joyous place.

I told Brian I might start looking for another labor coach.¬† The man got a horrible stomach ache the first go round because of nerves…he slept through a few hours of labor and even had to leave for a bit because of how terrible he felt.¬† If he already feels terrible now what is he going to be like when things are really intense?¬†

I had begun to be lulled into thinking things were beginning to calm down for us and had finally stopped being so stressful, but dealing with the stomach flu one day before my due date is really no cakewalk.  This can only mean one of two things: either this baby boy is going to be a hellion and so we are being prepared now for constant chaos (I blame those Woolsey genes, if so) or he is going to be a breath of much needed fresh and calmer air.  Please dear God, have mercy on our souls and make it the latter!

Isabella’s room decor has been in a transition phase for well, what feels like FOREVER now.¬† We moved her to a big kid bed several months ago, bought some new sheets, and have been using an old, full sized down comforter ever since.¬† The kid hasn’t complained, but after facing the starkness of that white, bulky mass each morning I am ready for some cheerfulness to be restored to her otherwise adorable room.

The problem is I am paralyzed by making the decision of which bedding to go with…I know, I know, such problems I face.¬† I have gone back and forth between budget options (Target) and a more indulgent purchase (PBK, Land of Nod) and after reading many, many reviews have finally settled upon spending a little more on quality bedding that will last her several years to come.¬† (Plus, let’s face it, while Target does many things well you can’t beat the adorable girl bedding at PBK.)

Besides, we totally went the budget route with the majority of her room so far.  Her bed and dresser were a total steal from Costco because we were willing to take the floor displays and even managed to get them to come down another $100 on the set because of slight damage.  Her curtains and bookcase were purchased at Target during a sale and the letters spelling out her name came from Michaels and were lovingly painted by her mother and father.  I also painted an imitation of a painting I wanted for her room that was about $200 at PBK.

That decision past me, I have narrowed the options down to three from PBK and one from Land of Nod.  This is where you come in: below you will find pictures of the options.  In the comments tell me which you prefer and why.

I guess before we get to that, though, a little more information about what is currently in her room would be helpful so you can make a more informed recommendation:

An ivory twin bed w/trundle and tall dresser similar to these:

Green, faux silk panels similar to these w/ white blinds instead of sheer panels:

A dollhouse bookcase similar to this (Isabella’s is pink):

Pink letters spelling her name.

Dot Anywhere chair (exact color, but I am open to a new slipcover as her’s is pretty dingy despite multiple washes):

Lighting:

Pottery Barn Kids Options:

1) Madison

2) Brooke

3) Kelsey

Land of Nod Option:

1) Bedding of Roses

Again, please let me know in the comments which you prefer and why…keeping in mind that these are not listed in any sort of preferential order on my part AND that I am open to changing the color of her curtains, chair, and letters of her name.

Cardigan: Gap; Black Shirt: Old Navy Maternity; White Skinny Jeans: Gap Maternity; Black Sandals: Target)

 

I have EXACTLY two weeks left…not that I am counting down the days, hours, or seconds.¬† The days of misery have returned:¬† acid reflux plagues me daily and nightly, my ankles are starting to swell at the end of the day¬†(thank you stupid AZ 96 degree weather in May), and I literally feel like I am going to explode if this baby gets any bigger.

Speaking of large, at my doctor appointment this week she took one look at my gut and said, “Wow; he’s really grown this past week!”, which is exactly what my husband said, albeit not so nicely, when he announced, “There has been a MASSIVE amount of expansion this week!”¬† And before you think I am all nuts about weight gain and growth during pregnancy, as my husband does, I get that I am supposed to gain weight and I get that most importantly the baby is too.¬† Trust me, I gain weight as evidenced by my large tummy and the fact that I have already had a big, strong, healthy baby.¬† (Isabella weighed in at just shy of 8 lbs at birth and totally shocked the nurse who gave her her first bath by holding up her own head and looking all around the room.)¬† But, it’s still a little disconcerting to have another 14 days of growth for both¬†me and the¬†baby to endure.

It’s even more disconcerting when the doctor measured my tummy and said, “Hmm..” and gave¬†me a half smile.¬† Turns out that I went from measuring right on track to a full week and a half ahead in the course of seven days.¬† Thankfully, that didn’t equate to an enormous weight gain for me, but it did for Baby Brother.¬† The doctor estimates he weighs about 7 lbs 5 oz right now, so do the math of a weight gain of 1/2-1 lb per week and you will understand her “hmm…”.¬†

We discussed options and settled upon letting things go for the next two weeks.¬† If he comes on his own that’s great, but if he is stubborn like Isabella, and all signs indicate he is (I’m still only 1-2 centimeters and 50% effaced and he has not dropped), then she will induce on the 21st.¬† I was really hoping to avoid another induction, but I am also so extremely miserable (I spent a car ride last night silently crying because of how uncomfortable I was just sitting there) that I cannot imagine going a day longer than necessary.¬† If not for financial reasons I would have allowed the induction to occur this week!

All I can pray for at this point is that this big bruiser is as well proportioned as his sister.

This morning, while dropping Isabella off at school, she looked at me and said, “I’m going to have a baby brother tonight.”

I laughed and said, “Oh, really?”

Isabella looked straight into my eyes and said, “Don’t laugh.”

Nothing so far indicates that she is right. I did show some signs a few weeks ago, but after some forced relaxation things have held steady.¬† I am now at the point (36 weeks) that if I were to go into labor nothing would be done to impede the progress…

I have mixed feelings about going into labor early.¬† It’s no secret I’ve not enjoyed this pregnancy as much as my first (many, many factors playing into those feelings), so to have it end unexpectedly early wouldn’t be too terrible.¬† My own personal wants aside, I know the baby will be fine if born¬† now, so his health isn’t a factor anymore either.¬†

I suppose my biggest reason for not wanting to go early is that I have about two sick days built up, so the rest of my maternity leave would be unpaid time off.¬† (If you’ve not heard AZ is in a CRISIS with regards to budget and education funding, so our income for next year is looking rather dismal…I can’t afford to lose money now when I am going to lose so much next year.)¬† We tried our best to time the baby’s birth for the end of the school year so as to minimize the time I might have to take off.¬† If all goes according to plan, I will wrap up my classes Thursday (5/20) and go into labor any day thereafter!

Isabella’s already weighed in.¬† What are your thoughts?¬† Will I go into labor early, on time, or late (like I did with my very stubborn first born)?

   

(Cardigan: Loft; Embellished Tee: Loft; Capri Jeans: Gap Maternity; Necklace: Modern Charm in Terre Haute, IN; Shoes: Gap Kids)

So there are about five weeks left in this, what will most likely be my last, pregnancy.¬† Up until about last week I had this pregnancy thing down.¬† Sure, I have been a little less excited (still trying to get a grasp on God’s sense of humor in giving me a boy) and life has been unbelievably MORE STRESSFUL than at any other point to date, but I’ve been fortunate in that my biggest pregnancy issues have been about baby gender and body image.

Then, one day last week I got up out of a chair and realized that unless someone produced a walker I wasn’t going anywhere too quickly.¬† After a few minutes of hobbling the stiffness and achiness in my nether regions¬†dissipated and I was able to carry on as normal.¬† However, that pain has only gotten worse over the past few days.¬† Some days are worse than others and it seems to have nothing to do with the amount of time I am standing or sitting.¬† I know that pelvis pain is normal at this point in pregnancy, but HOLY MOSES I do not remember this much at.any.point with Isabella.¬† Yesterday, while going “number one” (I have to be specific because when I told this to my husband he asked if I was pooping, which he equated with giving birth.¬† After punching him in the nards I reminded them that there was nothing his body could do to him that would equate to giving birth sans pain meds.) I seriously thought I would end up having one of those birth stories that ends with, “I had to pee and next thing you know I’m pulling a newborn out of the toilet and then I walked out the front door of our trailer and yelled for Billybob to get off his lazy butt as I had just done gave birth in the bafroom…”¬† I don’t think I can handle 35 more days of risking a “toilet birth”!

This time around I have also been plagued by a never-ending sinus infection, which may sound somewhat exaggerated and I suppose if you count those few days in March when I wasn’t congested or blowing my nose constantly or hacking up my lungs and the baby’s or breathing out my mouth like some slack-jawed idiot then I am indeed blowing it out of proportion.¬† I am naturally prone to a few nasty colds per year, but this constant mucus fest is tortuous.¬† I have also read some horror stories of women who have suffered the same condition during pregnancy but that it did not go away even after giving birth.¬† SERIOUSLY? Isn’t pushing that kid out enough penance?¬† Must I be cursed to care for a newborn, recover from labor, AND still be full of snot?

With Isabella I had some horrific periods of acid reflux, so we assumed she would be a hairy monster and as it turns out that even though she did have some hair, she wasn’t the Yetty we had imagined.¬† This time around the acid reflux is nearly every night- no matter how early I eat dinner and no matter how bland the food- so it’s inevitable that he will be born with a full pelt.¬† Last night was by far the worst: around 11:30 I woke up to a horrid taste in my mouth and a clear sense that unless I got up right then I would end up covered in barf.¬† I made it on time, but squatting by a toilet late at night while 34 1/2 weeks pregnant is not ideal.¬†

And on a superficial level I am more than OVER being pregnant.¬† I am tired of having to hitch up my pants every time I stand up.¬† I am tired of having people comment on how great I look and then others saying I’ve really started to get big: which is it people?¬† I am tired of having a very, very limited wardrobe.¬† I am tired of seeing all the pretty dresses in my closet and passing them up for yet another pair of elastic wasted pants.¬† I am tired of choosing sensible flats over fashionable heels.¬† I am tired of counting down the days until I can exercise properly again (77 days in case you wondered).¬† I am tired of not being able to eat sushi or drink caffeine.¬† I am tired…

How about you?  If you have had multiple pregnancies or are currently pregnant how did, or how does, one pregnancy differ from the other?