Chicken Pops

My kids had the chicken pox last week. (Or as one of my high-school students insists, Chicken Pops...he's 16 for heaven's sake!)
It started last friday night. Welsey, who'd just finished his second round of anti-biotics for the same ear infection was running a fever. I called the pediatrician as soon as they opened on Saturday and was in and out by 11. The ear infection was gone. The lungs sounded a bit wheezy...just watch him, she said. Fine.
By the afternoon, Grace was running a 102.7 fever. I felt like mother of the year for not having scheduled HER an appointment...by Sunday night, the fevers were gone and we were left with two cranky babies. Wes was pulling at his ear again, and his wheezing was getting worse. Monday, I took BOTH babies to the doctor. Of course, nothing was wrong with Grace, said the Dr. She's just fighting off a little cold. We, on the other hand, had another ear infection. He was prescribed Omnicef. We started him on the meds right away.
When he woke up with spots on Tuesday (they were just on his head), I thought a mosquito had gotten him. And when I picked the kids up from Mrs. Martha that afternoon, Grace had a few mosquito bites as well.
Wesley kept getting spots and spots. I thought it was an allergic reaction to the Omnicef and called the Dr. They said to bring him in. The Dr's visit goes like this:
Dr walks in and looks at Wes for two seconds without touching him: Ew, that's chicken pox.
Dr looks in ear: and he's still got a good ear infection. Keep up the antibiotics.
Dr points to Grace: Those are chicken pox, too.
Me: I thought they were mosquito bites.
Dr: hmmm.
Grace (to Dr): I wuv you!
Grace (to Jerry): NO! NO! NO!
Grace (to me): NO! NO! NO!
Grace (to nurse): GRACIE WANTS GREEN CANDY!
Grace was better by the end of the weekend. Wes stayed home with Jerry Monday and today.
Jerry: I think he's better. He looks better.
Me: Does he have any spots left?
Jerry: Just the one, on the bottom of his foot.
Me: Is it still green?
Jerry: Yeah.
Me: It's still chicken pox>
Jerry: but he'll wear socks and shoes
Me: (silence)
Jerry: couldn't we pop it?
Me: (more silence)
So, it's Tuesday night and Wes has ONE SPOT left. It won't go away. It's on the bottom of his foot and Jerry is threatening to pop it.
Grace has recovered nicely but tonight there was some green gunk in her eye we kept having to wipe out. With our current luck, she probably has conjunctivitis and will need to be out of daycare until the end of the school year.

Two lap babies can't sit in the same row

Did you know that two lap babies can't sit in the same row on an airplane because there aren't enough extra oxygen masks?

Did you know that 15-month-olds have to take their shoes off to get through airport security?

Well, we didn't know either, but now we do. Last Thursday, we ventured on our first trip as a family. We went to visit Jerry's brother's family in Missouri. We flew. My sort-of-sister-in-law talked me into it, saying, "this will be the last time you won't have to buy more than two tickets." She was right. But hidden in that message, unsaid, is the fact that we would be carrying two babies on the plane to hold in our laps all the way to Missouri. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?

Seriously...don't ask about our weekend

I had such high hopes for the weekend. I had gotten my grading under control. My school work (due Sunday night) was already started. Jerry had Saturday off. I was going to take the kids to a baby shower in Miami because he had been sick with the Flu. The weather was forecast to be beautiful! We talked about taking the kids to do something outside. In my mind, I imagined Grace playing out on the patio all weekend. I imagined at the end of the weekend, the laundry would not only be clean, but also put away. I imagined a week's worth of lunches in the fridge from the delicious cooking I would do. I imagined creative and engaging lesson plans detailed for my students. And doesn't all this make you wonder if I've ever HAD a weekend before?

Ah...Friday night. The end of a long work week, I imagined a relaxing night at home. Jerry and I were planning a nice dinner via takeout, spending some time together, and then working on our coursework. We got take-out. Grace refused to go to bed. Once she did go to sleep, Wes was up. All I remember was Jerry waking me up near 11; I had fallen asleep in bed with both kids. I hadn't worked on my school work, I hadn't showered, and it felt like my teeth were wearing a sweater. Of course, when I got out of bed to remedy the situation, Grace freaked out, and then the baby woke up, and the whole thing started over.

Flash forward to 2:30 A.M. Grace reaches over and puts a hand on my arm. Her hand is wet. Jerry wakes up and realizes she has gotten sick. Like throw-up sick. In our bed. By the time I realize what was happening, poor Grace was starting to vomit again. I grabbed her just in time to be covered in a heave of puke. Nice. Jerry strips the bed and I bathe Grace.

Did I mention we only have one set of sheets for our bed? Did I mention I have puke in my hair? With a clean t-shirt, Gracie cleaned up and re-dressed, our bed cleaned out and made-up with a combination of comforters and blankets from the guest room, I attempted to put Grace back to sleep.Her stomach had other ideas. She started hurling again. I got her to the sink in time to save the makeshift bedding and carpet. Convinced she had nothing left in her, I re-redressed her, changed my t-shirt (again) and started to rock her to sleep. She was tired and fell asleep quickly. The next wave of vomiting hit her as soon as I lifter her into her crib. She needed another bath, clean pajamas, and clean bedding. I gave up and kept my t-shirt on.

I finally got her to bed at about 4. I showered. I was just drifting to sleep when the baby woke up. Again. Thankfully, he wasn't sick, he only wanted to be nursed. An hour later, Grace woke up. She didn't get sick, but we did have to put her in our bed.

You'd think that after such a busy night, she'd be tired the next morning. But no--Grace was up at 7:30 asking for juice. She was playing, so I imagined she was done with being sick. I gave her juice. Fifteen minutes later, she burped so loud, she could have been a man. We were all ready to say, "good job!" when she starting puking again. I scooped her up (my poor t-shirt collection) and made it almost all the way to the sink. Poor baby--she was saying, "Oh no--my nose!". Gross.

I had to cancel for the baby shower. Jerry's Flu seemed worse. Grace had no appetite. I didn't push it. She was clingy and whiny. Wes had a cold and was coughing. I was getting no where on my coursework. But the clean laundry was getting folded! And I sent Jerry to Target to buy Grace some Gatorade and and extra set of sheets for our bed. Saturday night, we ordered Chinese food. Grace ate a ton of noodles and rice with soup broth, which is all I would give her. She went to bed early. So did Wes. I started my school work and so did Jerry. By 9:30, it felt like midnight. I was falling asleep at the keyboard. Jerry had to work the next day. We went to bed expecting to be up all night again. Grace woke up at about midnight, but went back to sleep when we put her in our bed. All was well.

When Jerry got up the next morning, so did Grace. She was fully herself again, talking, playing, laughing. I started the dishwasher. We heard a strange water noise, but figured it was the dishwasher. Jerry left for work. Jerry came back. The driveway was flooded. The garage was flooded. The hot water heater's bottom had rusted out. Jerry called in sick to work (which he WAS) and recruited help to fix the hot water heater.

By Sunday night, the kids were fed and bathed. The laundry was clean and in a giant pile, my school work was 1/3 done, I had no lesson plans, and the kids refused to go to bed or be without me. Jerry couldn't be near the baby because he had the Flu. I was in a panic.

At 11:53, I posted the last of my assignments (due at 11:55) and showered and went to bed. Grace was up and down all night and so was Wes. Monday morning at 4:30 AM, my alarm went off, and I got up and dressed myself and two babies. I drove us an hour to daycare and work on less than four hours of sleep and a weak cup of coffee. Grace ate my breakfast (pop tarts), so please, don't ask me how my weekend was.

I wonder if I'll ever be on time for anything again

I was never so good at being on time before I had Grace. After Grace, things went from bad to worse. And now? With the two of them, forget about it. I want to tell the story of a typical morning at the Sandlin house.

My alarm goes off at 4:30 AM. I am usually already up, nursing the baby, or just drifiting back to sleep from nursing the baby...we are all in one bed, sleeping like a pile of puppies. This was not planned, but as Grace is cutting four eye teeth at once and I can't stay awake through nursing, much less finish nursing and put the baby back in his bassinet...so there we all are (Jerry, too, when he's not on shift). I sneak out of bed to get myself dressed; everything but clothes. If I'm lucky, everyone stays asleep. That is not usually the case. If Grace wakes up, she plays in the bathroom while I do makeup, rearranging my sanitary napkins and extra rolls of toilet paper. If Wes wakes up, I have to make faces at him while putting on my make-up. He likes to "talk" to me. Once my hair and make-up are done, I nurse the baby again, to hold him over to breakfast (he's a big boy, and he likes to eat). Then, it's time to start dressing babies. If Jerry is home, we each take one. Once the babies are dressed, I herd them out the door. Grace likes to grab random things to take to Mrs. Martha's house: an extra shoe, a funny hat, some sunglasses (even though it's 5:45 AM and still dark out)--once she took a giant maxi pad she kept calling a sticker.

The car is already packed with the diaper bag, my things, and several snacks for Grace. Before we pull out of the driveway, she demands we begin the buffet. One day last week, I pulled out of the driveway, only to circle the block because on the way out of the house, she had put down her milk to grab some other random object, and was now screaming for milk. I ran in, got her milk, and we were on our way. I gave her a snack cup of lucky charms (which is not spill-proof, by the way, after they learn to take the lid off) and once she got tired of picking out the marshmallows and throwing the cereal on the floor, she started crying for a cracker. I didn't HAVE any crackers, but I had poptarts, which she ate. At THAT point, I had to pull over to retrieve the THREE binkies she had thrown on the floor and now could not possibly live without. We got back on the road, and she started crying for an apple. I drove the remainder of my one-hour commute trying to get her to stop crying and sing along with the kids' station on Sirius.

That I was only 10 minutes late to work was both miraculous and admirable.

Catching Up and Catching my Breath

My last post was on August 5th. I was lamenting about how uncomfortable and hot I was...how ready I was to have my labor induced...how concerned I was about dividing my attention between two babies...
It's only been three months, but it seems like I was writing that a lifetime ago. I can't imagine our lives without our little Wes. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was scheduled to have my labor induced on Tuesday, August 18th. My prior exams showed I was dilated to 3, and had been for 3 weeks. We were in a holding pattern.
The weekend was nothing unusual. Jerry worked on Friday. Grace and I went grocery shopping and played outside. On Saturday, the three of us went to Cape Coral to look at another Craig's list find; a fabulous computer armoire. We made arrangements to pick it up the next day.
On Sunday, Jerry and Mike went to pick up the armoire while Grace and I attempted the 9:00 mass. We made it almost to communion! When the guys got back, I picked up lunch: awesome wings and fries from Buffalo Chips. I ate a ton. I spent the day nesting; I set up the bassinet and washed and dried a mountain of laundry. My plan was to fold it after Grace went to bed...the universe had other plans.
Grace went to bed around 7:30. I was feeling tired, but I was 9 months pregnant and had chased a one-year-old around all day. I didn't feel much like eating dinner. I told Jerry I was feeling "crampy". I showered and had a contraction. But it could have been my imagination...I told Jerry, "just so you know, I had a contraction, I think." Just about that time, I had another one.
Jerry: How long since the last one?
Me: ummm....four minutes? That can't be right. I don't know. Maybe they're not contractions.

Jerry suggested we eat ice cream. I whole-heartedly agreed. Four minutes later, there was another contraction. I was confused, because the doctor had said in my exam the week before that I wouldn't be able to walk or talk through real contractions. I was walking and talking fine, so I just assumed it wasn't the real thing.

Jerry: Maybe we should go to the hospital?
Me: They have to be like this for an hour. I'm sure they'll go away.

But an hour later, Jerry was pretty sure I was in labor, with contractions coming every four minutes. Here was the problem: Grace was sound asleep in her crib. My aunt wasn't coming until the next afternoon. I called a friend of mine whose daughter had babysat for Grace once before. She arrived within 20 minutes. During that time, Jerry took the truck to get gas, and I FINALLY finished packing my hospital bag, AND I finished my pre-admission paperwork, too!

When we were on our way to the hospital, I was still insisting that the contractions weren't real, and that the hospital staff would send us home when we got there. But the contractions intensified as we were on our way, and I finally convinced myself I was, in fact, in labor.

When we got to the hospital, I was ushered into a room by an obviously disbelieving nurse (WHY do they think everyone's NOT in labor?), but when she checked me, she changed her story.
Nurse: Oh my. You're at about 7. Give me one minute.
Nurse steps into the hall and quietly closes the door before shouting: We've got to get this girl upstairs!

Two hours later, we were holding Wes in our arms.



The gory details? I got some awesome drug combo in my IV. Contractions still hurt, I just didn't care. I did have an epidural, because I informed the staff that I would not be doing anything with out one. Unfortunately for me, by the time I got one, I was past 8 cm dilated, so the relief wasn't the complete-can't-feel-a-thing-numbing I had with Grace. I still felt. Ouch. My OB wasn't available, but I had seen the on-call doctor before. She broke my water, and there was meconium, which means the baby had had an in-utero bowl movement (lovely). His heart rate and everything still looked fine, though. But we have to have a team from the NICU present when he was born. And we didn't get to hold him immediately; they took him to suction him out really well, to make sure he didn't aspirate any of the meconium (blech). I pushed four times. Seriously. He was HUGE! 8 pounds, 13 oz....

Freaking Out

I don't think its fair that with all the horrific body stuff Pregnant women have to go through, we're not allowed to drink. I have been pretty much pregnant since September of 2007. Yes, my math is correct. I haven't had more than 1/2 glass of wine or a slug of Jerry's beer when he wasn't looking in almost two years....I'm not condoning alcohol abuse by pregnant women. And I know that no amount of alcohol has been proven safe during pregancy. I'm just saying, the universe could have cut us a little slack on this one...like is it too much to ask for a new scientific study to discover that through some miraculous study, wine is now the BEST prenatal vitamin EVER. Or perhaps Tequila could have been proven to boost apgar scores or something? But alas, we're forced to deal with the complete disfiguration and decimation of our bodies without the aid of an alcohol-induced haze. Oh well.

Back to the title, I am totally freaking out. My doctor had previously scheduled my induction for August 12th. Turns out, she'll be on vacation, so she pushed it back a week to August 18th. BOY does this change plans. First of all, I have to go back to work next week! One week from Monday, I will be reporting for duty to unpack my classroom and plan some lessons. I anticipate trouble focusing. And its not like I can just get a coffee to keep me going...because caffeine is another one of God's greatest gifts not recommended for pregnant women.

Ok, so August 18th is the new date. I would love to say, "I don't think I'll make it..." but when my Dr. checked my cervix (too much information, sorry) at 35 weeks, I was only dialated 2 cm. I am today 37 weeks AND NOTHING. IS. HAPPENING. I walk every day, do housework and cooking, and chase Grace around and do whatever I can do be active and still I'm in some sort of pre-baby holding pattern. I'm glad he's not coming because I don't REALLY have a plan for that, but I am so hot that I'm melting and none of my clothes covers me completely anymore. And I just want him OUT.

On the otherhand, work will be interesting with the bottom quarter of my belly hanging out. Fashion-wise, I just "go with it." It's too hot to wear clothes anyway. I put on clean, neat clothes, and what they cover, they cover. I don't stress.

Besides freaking out about not having an absolute plan for when the baby comes, I'm also starting to have some SERIOUS concerns about the "do-ability" of completely meeting the needs of both my newborn AND my wild-child 13-month old....yikes.

The End is Near

Ok, mark your calendars! Wesley David will be making his debut on August 12. My OB is awesome and understands we don't have family in the area, and we need to arrange childcare for Grace. SO, August 12, it is (at 38 4/7 weeks...). We will be scheduled for an induction.



My aunt, who is also Grace's Godmother has graciously offered to fly in to help us out. To say that panic has set in would be an understatement. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure the panic had set in when I saw the giant, neon flashing "POSITIVE" on the home pregnancy test. I've been panicked for six months (remember, we only found out we were expecting at 3 months...). How in the WORLD am I going to be able to care for our little Gracezilla with a newborn? What if he's colicky? What if Grace resents him or pokes him in the eye? I mean, let's be serious. I only have the one kid now, and I'm not in line to win any mother of the year award... So, I guess my point is, I'm certainly glad to have help on the way.



Grace had her first birthday. I had a heck of a time planning her little party. I have entertained before. Before Grace was born, we had little parties all the time. I threw baby showers (ok, one, but still...) and hosted get-togethers. For some reason, every bit of common sense I had about party-planning flew out of the window. Why? Because the party was for a 1-year-old? Like she was going to notice the difference? I have no idea why, but suddenly, I found myself completely inept at organizing, planning, and pulling off a child's party. Thankfully, it all turned out fine...



We did have another appointment at 33 weeks. Everything looked great. Baby's heart rate sounded great. I refuse to write about it more than that, because to write about it would be to relive it, and it was bad enough the first time around. Let's just say Jerry and Grace came with me and the doctor was running a tad bit behind schedule (read "tad bit" as 1.5 hours).



More exciting stuff? We had the COOLEST maternity pics done. The photographer's website is http://www.reddaisyphoto.com/ and she is awesome. She was actually recruiting pregnant women to photograph for her portfolio, so we got the session for free! Anyway, we loved her so much, we scheduled a sitting for Grace on July 31st to do some 1-year-old pics. And the photographer will be doing another session at our house right after Wes is born.

Our next appointment is Monday, July 20. I'll be 35 weeks. Time for my Strep B swab. Hooray.

Paper Towel Micro-Mini

I am now on an every-two-week OB appointment schedule. I guess they figure hey--she's 30 weeks pregnant, what else is she doing? Whatever. I don't want to argue, so I roll on in, and face the scale.

Today was my appointment. I am something like 31 weeks and 5 days. We were not scheduled for an ultrasound or anything "cool," so Jerry didn't go with me. He was at work, so Grace did.

My doctor had been called away to the hospital for a delivery. Would I like to see another doctor? Come back later in the afternoon? Reschedule? I was there. I was dressed. I was even wearing mascara. I had just single-handedly wrestled Grace into public-appropriate clothing and managed to keep her clean from the house to the car AND during the 45-minute ride to the Doctor's office. Did I mention it was apparently monsoon season, and we were both now dripping from the jog (yes, 8-months-pregnant and wearing flip-flops, toting a toddler and a 45-lb diaper bag RAN in the rain) from the car to the door? All I could do was stare at the nurse, trying to think of a decent way to express my sentiment. It must have been obvious, because before I could say anything, she looked me over, turned to her clipboard, and mumbled, "I'll put you on the shortest list."

After chasing Grace around the waiting room for a bit, I was called back. Weight gain? 2 pounds in 2.5 weeks--not bad! Blood pressure? Lovely considering the waiting room Olympics in which I had just contended. When the nurse asked me if there were any problems or changes, I mentioned I'd been having a good number of Braxton Hicks contractions. (I know it was because we just got back from a road trip and I was doing a lot of chasing Grace around in the heat, but I promised Jerry I'd mention it, so I did.) So, because of this, the nurse assumes the doctor will want to check me and hands me a paper blanket thingy, escorts me and Grace to a room, gives us the once over and says, "Bottoms off. " She leaves the room.

There we are. The three of us. Me, Grace, and the paper blanket thingy, which, for a normal-sized non-pregnant woman who is not chasing around and 11-month-old, I'm sure it drapes nicely over the lap.... I can picture this serene woman, lounging fully-covered, flipping through the latest issue of Vogue, waiting patiently for the doctor. Believe me, this was not the picture in MY exam room...

I had to settle for wrapping the thing around me and tucking it, like a towel while I chased Grace around the room. She was due for a nap, which for some reason always results in hyperactivity...So, as I'm crouched down, simultaneously trying to coax her into reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, again, and pry the mystery medical instrument she just discovered in a drawer out of her fist, she decides that Mommy's paper dress looks interesting. She grabbed a fist-full and pulled. The second her little hand ripped the paper, her eyes lit up. She was either attracted to the ripping noise or the sound of my dignity flying out of the window. Suddenly, the child was all hands. Every time I looked at her, she had another fist-full of paper.

So, by the time the doctor, WHO WAS NOT EVEN MY DOCTOR OR PERSONALLY KNOWN TO ME, came in to check me, I was perched on the floor reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear, holding the biggest piece of the blanket thingy Grace had left me, which was, by the way, no bigger than a cocktail napkin. I just looked up and smiled.

The contractions were probably because I was dehydrated. Everything was/is fine. Wesley is measuring right on track. I'm to keep up the good work, etc. And I pray I never have to look that doctor in the face again.

Grace's birthday is next week. People keep asking me what appropriate gifts would be. Seems to me paper cover-ups pilfered from Doctor's offices would be ideal and cost-effective.

Pregnancy brain is REAL

OK, so I know most of you have heard of "pregnancy brain," right? Where pregnant women have difficulty focusing or remembering? I'm here to tell you its REAL. Lately, I've been really bad...It's taking me longer and longer to get myself together to leave the house, checking and rechecking things I've packed. I've put the salad dressing away in the Tupperware cupboard instead of the fridge. I spent at least 20 minutes trying to find my cell phone and couldn't for the life of me find it only to realize it had been in my hand the ENTIRE time. A woman on my pregnancy board nearly left home without her pants. I hadn't done anything THAT bad. Until...

Grace and I, celebrating our Summer vacation, had plans to have lunch with a friend. My friend met us at our house, and I was going to drive. She parked behind me. She asked me if I had enough room to get around her. I walked to the back of the car, looked, and said, "oh yeah...plenty of room." I then got into my car, started it, threw it into reverse and promptly smacked into the front of her car. Thank goodness there was no damage...but SERIOUSLY??? Is the oxygen in my blood being re-routed from my brain to finish growing this baby?

Glucola, Horse Shots, and Giant Babies

When you're 28 Weeks Pregnant, the doctors like for you to come in and be de-sensitized to needles. I had my appointment today. First, on my way there, I had to drink an unreasonably large serving of this Glucola drink...a cross between maple syrup and flat orange soda. The only reason I held it down was because I KNEW (from prior experience) that if I ralphed, the nurse at the office would NOT feel bad for me. And she would give me ANOTHER Glucola drink and I'd have to start all over....

At the Office...

After being weighed (4 pounds for the month, thank you...) and blood pressured (fine, fine...no worries) and given a "specimen cup" to umm....leave a specimen (and are these things getting smaller at each appointment?), the nurse unapologetically took at least three tubes of blood. And because my blood is Rh-, it was time for my Rhogam shot. Apparently, my doctor's office was out of regular injection needles and borrowed some horse needles from a vet's office somewhere. Needless to say, the nurse was able to inject the Rhogam into my marrow. She did have the courtesy to ask whether I'd prefer to be incapacitated in my right or left arm for the week...

Bandaged and bruised, it was off to the Ultrasound room. I knew I was going to be getting another U/S to check for low fluid (it was critically low with Grace, but we only caught it by accident. There is no increased risk for low fluid with this pregnancy. I think maybe the Dr was only checking because I was worried?) so I brought the team with me. I lay serenely on the paper-covered table staring up at the big-screen ultrasound, the baby inside me assaulting me from the inside with all his might, attacking every internal organ in his proximity (which at this point is all of them). The baby outside of me was attacking her dad with every ounce of force and all the skill available to an 11-month-old. While he tried to get her to focus on the books in her bag, she was screaming in her baby-language what Jerry and I know was "OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE!"

Despite the minor distractions, here's what we learned: Baby Wesley is doing great. He's measuring right on track for his gestational age. He has plenty of fluid to swim around in. He is DEFINITELY a boy and had his boy parts proudly on display. He's also measuring in the 70th Percentile for weight/length. So, despite my best efforts (and success, I might add) in the moderate-weight gain department, my baby is still on track to weigh in at over eight pounds when he's born. Ouch. Again.

On my way out, the nurse snagged me again...she needed just one more vial of blood....eh.

We're HOW MANY weeks?

Where has the time gone? 27 weeks pregnant is coming up this Saturday. The best part about that is, if for some reason, Wesley HAD to be born, he would have an 85 % chance of survival. Good news, yes, but let's all hope he stays right where he is for the time being...

Meanwhile Grace is walking! Seriously...she is walking and sometimes RUNNING! And she's so proud of herself. And we're so proud of her, too... Its been a rough couple of weeks for her. Starting three weeks ago, when Ms. Martha (the best day-care provider in the world) called me in my classroom and says, "I'm just calling to make sure...you know Grace has Thrush, right?" to which I responded, "Ummm....what's thrush?"

So, one doctor's visit and three prescriptions later, we were treating thrush, the yeast infection that goes with it, oh...and let's not forget the ear infection that somehow snuck in there.

Flash forward about 10 days; the end of the antibiotic. Grace is running a fever and has a cough. We go back to the Dr. Seems her Thrush is all cleared up (on both ends) but the ear infection switched sides? We were prescribed a stronger antibiotic. That was Friday. Today is Wednesday. I haven't slept since then. I took Grace BACK to the Dr today, convinced she STILL had the ear infection. The kid was whiny, clingy, not eating, not sleeping.... No ear infection. Turns out the meds were making her sick. So, because the infection was gone, we ditched the rest of the antibiotic and are hoping for a good night's sleep tonight, and seriously, it would be nice to make the rest of the school year without having to take time off to take her in!

Back to Wesley: I read in some other pregnant someone's blog this past week that being very pregnant feels like being crowded. I couldn't put it any better. I feel crowded. I'm being squeezed out of my own body. Of course, this someone was 36 weeks pregnant, looked like a blond supermodel, and her 36-week belly looked like my 12-week belly, and I hate her. Yet, I digress...

I am still jogging and doing strength training. I had another appointment last week. I only gained four pounds the previous month. I'm very proud of my not getting out of control with my weight-gain. Like I said before: anything less than double the recommended weight gain and I'm golden.

I'm starting to notice the swelling, though...feet and face (I don't mind the feet so much, because I can't see them anymore). Of course I'm watching the sodium, but it doesn't help that everything delicious has a ton of sodium. AND the back pain...I feel like t his kid is ripping me apart, and he's starting at my tailbone! All I can do is stretch, because getting to the chiropractor requires extra energy and also child-swapping coordination, which Jerry and I have not quite perfected yet...

Wesley is extremely active. Grace was, too, but this is different. This kid means business. He's so rough! Maybe he's trying to chew his way out, or something?

Ok, so, next appointment is June 5th, and I'll be doing the delicious glucose test, for the second time this pregnancy, hopefully, with equally stellar results as the last time. (The only reason I can hold that glucola swill down is knowing that if I yak, they're just going to make me drink another one.)

Cravings are getting the best of me....

Let me preface, with the fact that I only gained THREE pounds last month!!! (Thank you jogging, working out, and eating..um....sensibly....)

BUT THEN, yesterday, for lunch, I splurged because McDonalds had their 1/4 pounder with cheese buy one/get one for a penny, SO, a lady I work with and I both got one and split an order of fries....I had milk to drink (ok, TWO milk chugs, but so what?) so I wasn't feeling TOO bad about it. I got home, jogged, did some squats, lunges, weights with my arms blah blah blah....

Jerry's night to cook, so we had CHINESE!!! Again, I was trying to be sensible...I ordered wonton soup (ok, it was a large, but I saved half) and chicken with mixed veggies (I really tried to eat only half, but I was SO HUNGRY I ate it all, but with only like a REAL ONE PORTION of brown rice--like two tablespoons or whatever)

So I woke up this morning with a real desire and every intention to have like a low sodium, high protein, salad kind of day.

Only THEN, I NEEDED a decaf during my planning period, so when I pulled up to the drive through my body says to me, "bacon egg and cheese biscuit. BaconEggAndCheeseBiscuit.BACONEGGANDCHEESEBISUIT!!!!!!!" and suddenly, I was STARVING (don't forget, I'd already eaten low-fat peanut butter and honey on a double fiber English muffin) So, trying to be reasonable, I ordered my small decaf with one cream and one sugar and a plain biscuit, which, I might add, was the most delicious biscuit I've ever eaten in my entire life.

Then, I ate my sensible lunch, like a GALLON of water (to stave off the hunger pains)...and just now, in rapid succession I had cravings for pickled ginger, coconut, and dark chocolate peanut M&Ms (NONE OF WHICH I ATE, by the way).

I am hoping that our baby Wes is just having a growth spurt, and the duration of my pregnancy will not be plagued with these ridiculously impossible to tame cravings!

And the survey says.....

It's a boy!
Wesley David is on the way...

We had our Level II Ultrasound scan yesterday, and everything looked good (or otherwise the tech didn't say anything different...)and there were definitely boy parts. The tech was doing her scan, and I was watching as Grace was climbing on Jerry's head (she really was such a good girl...). The baby was coming in and out of focus...I could see a little head then little arms. I saw little feet, then little legs, then the tech rotated the angle, looking at the legs from underneath...and I said, "Whoa...I see boy parts!" The tech smiled and nodded....So, its a boy.

Not much other excitement right now. We took Grace to the beach last weekend. The weather was awesome (a little windy) but the water was much too cold to get in. Let's call this picture my 19 week "belly shot" because no one needs to be scrutinized THAT much, right?
















Anyway, after the beach, we went home and had lunch on the lanai. Here is a picture of Grace after she's eaten an entire banana popsicle....

Boy or Girl?

Ok, so Jerry and I are on pins and needles waiting to find out if Grace gets a brother or a sister. The appointment is scheduled for Monday, 3/30, at 3:30! In my aggitation, I found this cool game that will let you all guess for us! Have fun.

Flu season is upon us

There is a flu epidemic in Southwest Florida. How do I know, you ask? Well, when I brought Grace to the pediatrician to find out why she's fussy, uncomfortable, and running a fever, the Doctor told me, "Your baby has tested positive for Influenza B. Not surprising; there is an epidemic."

Hmmm. Good to know.

So, poor little Gracie has been battling the flu. Friday night, she ran fever up to 103.9 before I quit taking it. I called the on-call nurse who told me that as long as she is responsive, to continue to treat the fever at home. So, after a tepid bath and a dose of Motrin, the thermometer read 103.9 and I decided that I was only scaring myself. It was a rough night that turned into a rough weekend, that turned into a rough week.

She can't go back to daycare until her fever has been gone for 24 hours. Today is Wednesday and she has been running a consistent temperature of between 99.5 and 100.7. All we can do is give her Motrin. She is coughing all night and leaking vibrant colors. She is so miserable, but still manages to smile with us and play. Jerry stayed home with her yesterday and today. He's such a good dad.

So, this past Monday, I had an appointment with my OB. I am currently in my 17th week (we switch on Saturdays). Baby bean is still right on track. She didn't do an ultrasound, just listed to the heart rate with a Doppler. Everything looked good. I did have to do my sugar test (blech), and the results should be in by Thursday. My weight gain was more than what I expected, but hey...it wasn't double, so I'm proud. Exciting news is I scheduled our level II ultra sound (where they tell us the gender) for March 30th at 3:30!

On the subject, I guess I should mention that I'm defintitely "showing." I'm carrying a lot different with this one, though. With Grace, I gained weight everywhere--and lots of it. With this one, although I'm gaining more than average, I'm carrying most of it in my belly. I'm still out walking/jogging to keep in shape, and I'm doing toning exercises to try to stave off the flabs.

I am occaisionally feeling Baby Bean move. I can feel lights taps and flutters a few times a day. I like the reassurance that comes with feeling him/her jump around. According to my books, he/she is developing inner ears and can sense light, even though his/her eyelids are still fused shut. All very exciting stuff.

So far, so good...

We went for another checkup today. The doctor says everything looks great and the little bean is measuring right on schedule for his/her August 23rd due date.


They also did an "interview" Jerry and I call the Department of Children and Families interview. It goes like:

Nurse: Do you ever go to bed hungry because there's no food in the house?

Me: Does it still count as "yes" if I have eaten all the food in the house in the two hours before bed?

Nurse: Do you feel safe in your home?

Me: Um....yeah, (twirling hair) we, like...have an alarm.....

and you get the idea.



Because we were scheduled to see the interview nurse and the financial counselor AND the doctor, our appointment lasted about two hours. Grace was such a trooper. She finally had a melt down as we were looking at the ultrasound. Poor thing. She was just tired, bored, and ready to get the heck out of there. I felt the exact same way, and if I could have gotten away with a screaming fit, I probably would have thrown one, too...


Anyway, the long and short of it is, Baby Bean looks great. I feel great. Everything is going great. I do have to do an extra sugar test (yum yum) at the next visit because Grace was so big (8 lbs, 9 oz). But hey--I'm watching what I eat and trying to gain a more reasonable amount of weight this time (anything less than twice the recommended would be fine...)


So, in four weeks, I go back for the sugar test/blood work and to check the baby with a doppler. But the NEXT appointment, four weeks after that, is the BIG ultrasound, where we find out if Baby Bean will wear blue or pink! We're totally excited about that. I can't imagine not wanting to find out the gender. I'm way too much of a planner.

Don't feed the Preggo

I am ravenously hungry. All the time. And believe me, I'm eating. I am aware that I need enough calories and protein to breastfeed a 7-month-old and grow a human. I get it. I eat well. But my body is trying to mutiny. Apparently, it doesn't agree with my "wise" choices for how I get my calories. I eat fruit, cheese, soy milk, granola bars, oatmeal, and herbal tea during the day. I usually have some lean protein wrap or salad for lunch. I eat normal, healthful dinners.

My body wants to eat everything it sees and/or smells and/or thinks about. Unless its a carrot, then my body wants to projectile vomit. I understand that I am pregnant and that comes with some cravings, so I am trying to be compassionate to my body's demands. I would love to choose one craving to acquiesce per day, but I can never choose one thing above the others; I simply want to eat everything. All the time. I am never full.

Well, there it is

I am determined not to become "o-beast," as one of my high-schoolers put it today.

With Grace, let's just say I gained more than double the recommended weight. Let's also just say that my weight when admitted to the hospital to deliver my 8 lb, 9 oz baby was roughly the same as a small VW, which is what I told the nurse, who then insisted on my backing onto a scale. If Jerry wouldn't have been afraid of my raging hormones, he probably would have made the "beep, beep, beep" noise of heavy equipment being thrown into reverse, which would now be funny, looking back, I guess.

So, by this time, with my first pregnancy, I had gained more than double of my current weight gain, 7 pounds. Which isn't really a weight gain, so much as the last seven pounds of my baby weight that just wouldn't come off for "some reason," which turned out to be that I was, in fact, pregnant again, and my last 7 were also my 1st 7. I am still in my regular pants, though they may or may not be buttoned, depending on the time of day. I am eating reasonably (not counting the super-awesome brownies my neighbor brought over today) and exercising regularly. I feel good and I think I am barely showing. Which , considering I've only known I'm pregnant for a week, is good.

This is why I was so surprised today when I overheard my 6th period class arguing about who was going to "ask her." I knew exactly what they were wondering, and when one kid finally drew the short straw and asked, in front of the whole class, whether or not I was pregnant, I was a little dismayed. I neither confirmed nor denied....I just said to him, "do you realize you just said to me that I look chunky?" I laughed it off, and so did everyone else, but there it is.

Are you kidding me with this?

Ok, just to catch you up, Jerry and I have been together since October 2004. We were married on June 30th, 2007. Our beautiful daughter, Grace Kelly, was born on July 1st, 2008. We live in Florida. We love the sun and the water. We are an active, healthy, all-american family.

I have been working as a teacher in Title I schools for more than 7 years. Jerry will have his six-year anniversary as a fire fighter in March. Life is good.

Grace has been just perfect. She is a good baby. She sleeps well and eats anything. She has Jerry's laid-back attitude, and nothing much bothers her. She smiles all the time. she's so happy and absolutely perfect.

So, that brings us current. Last week, I realized I was probably "off" on charting my cycle. (We use Natural Family Planning, from the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility, by Toni Weshler, http://www.tcoyf.com/). So, my first step was to take a pregnancy test, then I was going to take Ovulation tests until I was confident that I was "on track." Well, surprise, surprise, the pregnancy test was a BFP--Big Fat Positive.

Jerry was on shift, and I didn't really know what to tell him, since I was feeling sort of at fault; it was sort of my "job" to track things, and he would always ask me, "are we good?" before anything. Long story short, I picture mailed him a picture of the positive pregnancy test. I guess it wasn't as obvious as I thought, because he had to pass it around the station until one of the guys finally interpreted for him.

The thing was, with the new baby, being together hadn't been high on our priority list. I immediately thought back and blamed the whole thing on Jerry's birthday, January 3rd, which would have put me about six weeks along. Before Grace was born, we had a miscarriage at about 10 weeks. So, when I found out I was expecting Grace, my doctor immediately put me on Progesterone supplements. Monday morning, I called my doctor's office as soon as it opened and explained my question about progesterone, not to mention I am still breastfeeding Grace, and I wasn't sure about how the pregnancy would affect that, or vise versa. They were extremely understanding and scheduled an appointment for the following day.

When the ultrasound came up at the appointment, Jerry and I were expecting a tiny bean of a baby with a flickering heartbeat. What we saw was a GIANT baby with a head and arms and legs and he/she was wiggling all around! My concern to my doctor was expressed something like this, "Holy Crap! How big is THAT baby?" Turns out, I was 11 weeks along. One week shy of being done with the first trimester. No need for Progesterone. The new baby is big with a strong heartbeat. The due date is August 23rd. Grace will be 13 months old.

Keep smiling,

Kate