I am not invisible

At the "Best of" party with my hubby Aaron, SIL Trish and big brother Shawn.



I wish there was a better pic of the dress, but you get the general idea.

ON Tuesday night we had a work event at the swanky W Hotel — our annual “Best Of” party when we celebrate those who have been chosen as the “best in the cities” (best new fitness class, pastry chef, hat-maker, perfume shop, you get the idea). It’s basically a “who’s who” hip party scene; an event that makes me proud to say I work at this mag.
I went to our company’s inaugural “Best Of” party in 2008, missed the party last year due to a family funeral, and was so excited to go this year that we lined up babysitters (my parents) so Aaron could meet me there. My brother Shawn and fun sister-in-law Trish were meeting us there, as were our friends Jodi and Walter.
When I was choosing my attire a few nights in advance of the fiesta, I pulled a dress out of my closet (one I had purchased years ago and never worn), tried it on, thought it looked fine, and basically put it out of my mind. The morning of the event, I packed up my curling iron, some makeup, the brown dress, my comfortable brown Mary Janes, and headed out the door.
Within an hour of being at work, it started. The questions.
“What are you wearing tonight, Kelly?” “Julie, what are you wearing?” “Alex, can I see your dress?” “Will this dress look OK?” “Should I wear the black tights or the grey ones?”
There definitely wasn’t this much buzz the first year we had the event. Some people dressed up, some didn’t. But this was the third year. And my coworkers were all about the fancy.
My friend Kelly’s dress was hanging in a bag in her cube. When I asked to see it, she slipped the plastic bag off the hanger and underneath was a very stylish royal blue strapless cocktail dress. I overheard Julie describing her dress as a little silver and black number that she was going to pair with some tall black boots. Mallika was going home to change into a satiny one-shouldered black dress. Alex’s dress was an adorable LBD with ruffles around the neckline.
“I’m starting to think I’m going to be underdressed” I wrote in an email to my friend Kirsten.
“I am not cocktaily at all... I’m Graysville,” she wrote back. “Gray boots, gray skirt, gray and purple little jacket thing. I never had time to go shopping. I wouldn’t worry about being underdressed!”
I went over to my friend Amanda’s cube. “I think I’m going to be underdressed,” I told her. (Amanda is often my voice of reason here at work.)
“Mary is wearing what she has on right now,” she pointed out.
Mary was wearing pants. Mary is very practical.
Jamie sent me an email asking, “Should I wear pants or a dress?”
“Wear a dress!” I wrote back.
Tabitha emailed me an image of a short, tight, sassy dress she was considering for the party. “Is this going to be OK?”
“Definitely! Sassy is good!” I wrote back.
I was about to realize that I was the one who needed fashion advice.

The plan was for Kelly and I to meet the rest of our marketing team at 5 p.m. to finish stuffing gift bags. At 4 p.m. I headed over to the bathroom to get ready. Plugged in my curling iron, took my dress out of my Lunds/Byerly’s bag (not nice enough to require an actual hanger), set my makeup on the counter. Awesome. I was going to be ahead of schedule. That never happens.
As soon as I had my dress on, I knew it was all wrong. It wrapped around my waist and came down to a few inches below my knees. A silky tank top underneath did an excellent job of covering me up. My chunky heels were way too casual. I stepped in front of the full-length mirror and examined myself from the front and side. These are the words that ran through my head: “Dowdy. Frumpy. Boring. Plain, plain, plain.”
I was glad I was alone in the bathroom. In a split second I hurried back into the stall and took the dress off. It was an alright dress, for a casual business lunch, maybe. But this wasn’t a casual business lunch. This was going to be a cocktail party with no shortage of cleavage and legs — a cocktail party crawling with hip, young, HOT coworkers and clients wearing spiky heels and trendy dresses.
Fuck it. I was not going to wear that thing. I was tired of blending in. I always blend in. I wanted to feel hip and trendy and maybe (gasp, gasp) even sexy.
I feel like I need to preface what I’m about to write by saying that I am madly in love with my husband, he makes me feel beautiful, and I don’t have a burning desire to morph into Kim Kardashian (or some other Hollywood bombshell) just to see what it’s like to be your average guy’s wet dream. But, I don’t know, when you’re married and you have kids and you become comfortable in your routine, you start to feel sort of invisible. The problem is, I have always blended in — even when I was younger (I was never the girl getting hit on. If a guy ever bought me a drink, it was most likely because he was hitting on one of my friends and didn’t want me to feel left out) — and now that I’m 35 (!) and have two kids, I’m a little bit bored with playing it safe and being the “good girl.” I’m finally ready to step out of the box and take certain risks.
I honestly think it took having two kids to get to this point, as backwards as that may be. I am a lot less modest now, that’s for sure. (Breastfeeding will do that to you.)
As soon as I made the decision to reject my dress, my mission became urgent. I just had to find a replacement dress. This was a fashion emergency!!
Even though I couldn’t afford it.
Even though I was supposed to be helping my department stuff gift bags in less than 45 minutes.
I threw my pants and sweater back on, stuffed my brown dress into my work bag (sorry, brown dress!), gathered up my makeup, and prepared to do some serious shopping in record time. (Gotta love the fact that 50 city blocks are connected through the skyway system!) Do I go to Macy’s? Target? Where was I guaranteed to find a fun outfit that wouldn’t break the bank?
I decided to check out the sales racks at Sak’s Off Fifth. I tried on a purple bubble dress with a low back that was straight out of Sex and the City. Price tag = $80 (on sale). I instantly felt hip. It was perfect! I put it on hold. I couldn’t quite commit but I didn’t want to put it back, either.
It’s funny how your priorities shift when you’re in a mad rush to buy something. Normally I wouldn’t even consider spending $80 on a dress like that. And then the rational side of my brain kicked in. How many times would I wear it? Was the quality worth $80? Was it as cute as I thought or was I just desperate? Would it look like I was wearing a short purple bag?
If I couldn’t find anything else, I would buy that dress. And eat PBJ until my next paycheck. “But it’s just a dress,” the rational side of me hissed. “Right now it seems like a necessity, but it’s not going to matter in a few days, once people start forgetting about this party.”
“I don’t care,” said the ‘this-is-how-I-got-into-credit-card-debt-back-in-college’ side of me. “I want to feel cute!”
And with that, off I went to Len Druskin for some shoes. I found a pair of black velvet heels on sale for $20 (half off). They had my size. These shoes were a million times better than my original choice. I was so distracted at the register that the cashier had to prompt me to sign my check card slip. “Long day?” she asked with a smile. If I would’ve been honest, I would’ve told her “No, I’m frantically trying to buy an entire outfit in 15 minutes, even though I’ve had months to prepare for this event because, turns out, I hate the outfit I brought. And guess what? I have about $200 in my account to last me the next few weeks. And yet here I am out shopping! Ha ha! Isn’t that funny?”
“Yeah, long day,” I replied.
I raced down to Marshall’s and went directly to the dresses. In record time I had six dresses piled over my arms. I didn’t really want to buy a black dress since I knew most people would be wearing black (plus I have a number of black dresses in my closet) but when I tried on the dresses, the fun, colorful ones did nothing for me.
The last dress I tried on was a black dress, and as soon as it was on I knew it was the dress: A black tank-style dress with layers of ruffles and little sparkles in the fabric. It was form fitting but not too tight. It was short but not slutty. It showed just the right amount of cleavage without being all 'Hey, everyone, check out these DDs!' It was comfortable. It had just the right amount of glitter to be fun without being obnoxious. And it was only $25! SCORE!
I hurried back to work, changed in record time, put powder on my sweaty face, sprayed on some Flowerbomb perfume, and tried to do something with my pathetic hair (I am not a long hair person and I know deep down that my hair looks a million times better when I have short hair — but it’s taken me so long to grow it out that I’m not quite ready to cut it just yet). I put on the dress, the heels, some dangly earrings and lipstick, all ‘special occasion items,’ and when I was all put together I felt GOOD about myself. I didn’t feel boring and frumpy. I actually felt kind of fun.
I’m not as thin or as toned as I’d like to be, but you know what? I’m not as heavy as I used to be, either. Just a little over three months ago I had an extra 40 pounds on my frame and a nearly 10 pound baby chillin’ in my uterus. And maybe, when I’m older, I’ll wish I had the figure I have right now (imperfections and all) and I’ll be glad I bought a dress that didn’t hide my body but actually highlighted some of it. The questions were: Did I have the confidence to wear the dress without feeling like I needed to keep my coat on all night? Could I wear it without self-consciously pulling it down or tugging it up?
Yes I could.
And I did.
And you know what? I had an absolute blast.

Maternity leave

Adam (far right)with little friends Ryan, Leah, and Greta at a surprise get-together for Aaron's birthday June 16 (not pictured: Broder, Aliza, and Ben). We had a beer tasting in the backyard, with 12 adults and 7 kids in attendance. It was so much fun we might try to make it an annual event.


Ben at five or six weeks old, wearing a onesie that Adam wore at three months. Ben is now two months old and weighs 14 pounds. Adam is almost three years old and weighs 28 pounds. Soon Ben will be Adam's big little brother.

A typical weekday:

1:30 a.m. - 2 a.m - Feed Ben in a hazy stupor.

4 a.m. - 4:30 a.m. - Another feeding.

5 a.m. - The alarm goes off. Why does Aaron set it so early? He NEVER gets up the first time it goes off. I have to nudge him, tell him "The alarm is going off. It's going to wake up Adam and Ben." and then listen to it go off at least two more times before he finally quits hitting snooze and gets up for the day.

6:30 a.m. - Ben starts stirring in his bassinet. Yep, he's hungry AGAIN.

7 a.m. - Aaron and Adam kiss us goodbye. (Aaron brings Adam to daycare at least three times a week.) Ben is wide awake now, and all I want is a nap. We watch the Today show.
I eat breakfast, check my email, and take a shower to wake up. Ben chills out in his bouncy chair while I shower.

9 a.m. - I feed Ben while watching Ellen - the highlight of my morning.

10 a.m. - 11 a.m. (or around there) - I sneak in a nap if I'm lucky.

What happens around lunch time varies from day to day. Some days, I'm a totally unproductive lump and spend the afternoon on the couch watching Mad Men re-runs or Snooki and "The Situation" act like idiots on The Jersey Shore. On those days, it's all I can do to put in a load of laundry and figure out what's for dinner. I pick up Adam from daycare at 4 and Aaron gets home around 6 so I have plenty of time to be lazy. Other days, I try to visit people or go somewhere just to force myself to get out of the house (Target, Byerly's, the mall, etc.) Sometimes I keep Adam home for these visits and sometimes it's just Ben and I. It's so much more work to keep Adam home, but it's also a lot more fun, esp if we're hanging out with other kids.
Our visits over the past two months have included my mom's work; my SIL April's house in St. Francis (she's a daycare provider so we were able to see her in action with all 10 kids and OMG I honestly don't know how she does it without losing her mind!!); my friend Katie's house while she was recovering from ACL surgery; my friend Megan's house in Anoka; Aaron's work; my friend Beth's mom's house (Beth lives in Kentucky and was in town briefly); my parents' house in Forest Lake; and my friend Amy's house before she returned to work (our maternity leave overlapped for a few weeks). We also made it downtown Minneapolis twice, once to visit the office and again for a co-worker's baby shower (thanks, Katie D., for being such a good buddy & helping me out that afternoon!); Jay, Pete & cousin Max's house twice (we always feel so welcome); my SIL Tricia's salon in Wayzata (note to self: when a 3-year-old is left alone with markers while you're getting your hair done, and he suddenly becomes very quiet, he probably isn't coloring on the paper you provided him, he's probably coloring on the floor, the couch, the table, and his legs. Good thing the markers were washable!!); the Lake Elmo Park Reserve man-made swimming pond with my mom and again with my SIL Amy and nieces Kayla and Morgan (I love how clean it is there - no seaweed, no fish, no cigarette butts or bottle caps buried in the sand); and to the Maple Creek beach in Maple Grove with friends Megan and Sadie. I haven't been to the beach this much in YEARS. On a balmy summer weekday, the beach is definitely a hangout for SAH moms and their young kids. There's no shortage of 30-something women wearing skirted one-piece post-baby-body swimsuits (so long, bikinis!) with toddlers in wide-brimmed sun hats, that's for sure. The SAH mom world is still a foreign world to me. I have nothing but respect for those who choose that path—it's a lot of work (and a lot of rewards) but I know it's not the path for me (as much as I love my kids). Maybe it would be different if we were in a bigger house and a more kid-friendly neighborhood. Maybe not.
During my maternity leave we have had visitors, too - both during the day and in the evening. Daytime visitors include my mom (she has come a few times after work to hold Ben so I can take a nap); my sister Mary, niece Eva and nephew/godson Lou (they brought us some awesome Greek pizza); my friend Kirsten (we had ham sammies together and hung out in the backyard talking about her upcoming wedding); my college friend Leah who made Ben an adorable hat; my friend Amy who brought lunch over not once but twice, first Chinese food and then Mickey D's; and friends Julie & JT who brought us a delicious pie (we watched The Bachelorette together - my guilty addiction. JT and Aaron were even sucked into the show this season, even though Aaron thinks most of it is scripted/fake.)
During the first week we were home, our friends Karla, Tony, Greta and Aliza brought us a pasta dinner; my mom, dad, Aunt Karen, and grandma brought over my favorite chowmein hotdish; and my friend Jodi made us a yummy pan of lasagna. When you have a new baby, meals are SO appreciated. Heck, who am I kidding? Even without a newborn, I appreciate it when someone else cooks for us!
I was hoping we'd get out to Green Bay this summer but it didn't work out. Our first road trip with the whole fam occurred two weekends ago when we went to our friend Julie's cabin near Alexandria for a reunion with Aaron's high school group. There were 20 adults and 21 kids there (most people tented it, I used the newborn card and scored a room in the air-conditioned cabin). Thankfully, both Ben and Adam slept nearly the whole time we were in the car. On Saturday night there was a bonfire and I wound up going back to the cabin with Adam. One of our friends was holding Ben, so I left him with her. He slept in her arms for FOUR HOURS. I woke up and saw that he wasn't in his pack and play next to me and felt a physical ache for him. It sounds silly but I genuinely missed him. It's going to be more difficult returning to work than I thought (I was ready to go back after having Adam). You form such a strong bond with your baby when you spend just about every waking moment with him/her for nearly three months that I think it's only natural to have some mixed emotions about returning to work. I'm trying not to think about it too much. I still have a few weeks left of maternity leave and I'm going to make the most of them!!

One month ago ...

... I became the proud mama of Ben Robert Sorenson. He arrived on June 6, one day before we were going to have him evicted (I was going to be induced) and weighed 9 lb. 7 oz., 21 3/4 inches long. My doctor predicted an 8-pounder when I went in on June 4 for my 41-week appointment but I think everyone was shocked (no one more than me) when the nurse put Ben on the scale and announced that he was over 9 pounds! Now I know why I was so uncomfortable during my pregnancy. That's a whole lot of baby!! Ben has a full head of dark hair, chubby cheeks, and adorably full, kissable lips. He looks a lot like Adam did when he was born. We might be biased, but we think he's pretty cute.

My labor and delivery story (better late than never, right?):

My water broke at 12:15 a.m. June 6 — the loud "POP!" actually woke me up — and I announced to Aaron that it was "go time." I was THRILLED to be in labor & relieved to know that I was finally about to meet Button after enduring a pregnancy that seemed to last an eternity. I called the hospital, told the labor & delivery nurse that my water broke, I was already dilated to a four, this was my second child, and I was past my due date, and she announced, "Come in within the hour."
Woo hoo! After two failed attempts at stripping my membranes, two days of false labor contractions, weeks of wondering when/where/how I'd go into labor, this was it!
We woke up Adam, called my parents, loaded up the car and were on our way. Ever since my doctor had set an induction date - at my request - I had felt torn/guilty about it. It wasn't as if the baby was in distress or my health was in jeopardy, I was just incredibly uncomfortable and needed to know when my misery would end. Whenever I thought about the induction, though, I felt selfish forcing the baby out before he/she was ready to come on his/her own. When my water broke on its own, I was relieved that I wasn't going to be messing with Mother Nature.

Aaron, Adam and I arrived at St. John's Hospital in Maplewood at 12:45 a.m. where I continued to gush amniotic fluid. I am SO GLAD my water didn't break while I was at work! I soaked through a thick bath towel during the short car ride over and completely drenched through my capri pants while walking from the parking lot to the hospital. Every time I got up I leaked a puddle of warm water. No wonder the baby didn't want to leave that safe and cozy environment!
Because we arrived after midnight, we had to enter at the ER. A nurse was there waiting for me (with a wheelchair) and I was promptly wheeled up to Labor & Delivery where my parents met up with us. I had only had two intense contractions at that point so we were able to chat for a little while until I felt another contraction coming and then I told my dad he had better go. I didn't want Adam to see me in pain so my dad and Adam promptly left. I felt emotional when I hugged my little guy goodbye. That would be the last time he was my only child. Aaron walked them out to my dad's truck and said we'd see them soon, when Adam would be a big brother, and I think the moment Aaron hugged Adam he felt pretty emotional, too.
My mom stayed with us at the hospital to experience the miracle of birth from a different perspective than being the one with her feet in the stirrups. I was glad she was there in the room with us - she's one of my very best friends and has a very calming presence.

When I was first checked by my very nice nurse Kara, I was only dilated to a four. It was discouraging (I had been at a four for a few days) and I assumed it would be a long, slow labor. Aaron got out the iPod and we started listening to my soothing labor mixes. It was such a good background distraction.

After a negative epidural experience with Adam, involving uncontrollable shaking (Aaron said it was like I had Parkinson's disease) and a heavy feeling of pressure on my chest (my doula told me later that she thought the epidural had been administered too high in my spine) my goal was to skip the epidural if possible. I wasn't adamantly opposed to getting one, but if I could do it without, great. I was glad to be able to skip the epidural. I survived the painful contractions with the help of Aaron's supportive coaching, breathing through the pain (or "riding the waves"), gripping Aaron's hand, and a dose of Nubaine, which took the edge off - like having a few glasses of wine. After enduring round after round of painful contractions — at one point I could feel the baby scraping its way down the birth canal (complete with the ring of fire and everything) and HOLY SHIT did those last few contractions hurt!! — I asked the nurse to check me again and heard some of the most beautiful words in the English language: "You're complete. Let's call the doctor. You'll be meeting your baby soon."
The pushing phase of labor, with Adam, was completely exhausting. I pushed for nearly two hours. I was too numb to know which muscles to use, leaving him hung up on my pelvic bone for what seemed like forever (sorry about that, Adam!) In retrospect, I'm surprised I didn't need a c-section. By not having an epidural this time, I was able to feel every contraction and push the way I was supposed to push, from my bottom rather than my stomach. I only pushed for 25 minutes and with one small episiotomy to make room for the baby's head, Ben entered the world at 4:06 a.m.
My placenta, however, decided to hang out in my uterus for awhile. The doctor couldn't get it to detach. She worked on it for 25 minutes (yanking the umbilical cord this way and that) before asking me, "Did you have problems delivering your placenta during Adam's birth?" No, I told her, it was a non-issue.
"If I can't get your placenta out this way, I'll have to go in and manually extract it. It will only take 15 seconds, but it will be 15 seconds of excruciating pain. Do you want another dose of Nubaine?"
All I could think was "HELL NO, you're not going to stick your arm up me and wrench this thing out after what I just went through! I can't handle any more pain. I WILL GET THIS THING OUT OF ME ON MY OWN!"
I just delivered a nearly 10 pound BABY! I could expel a one-pound pancake-shaped organ!
My beautiful son was in a corner of the room crying on the scale and being oohed and ahhed over by the nurse and Aaron and my mom — after so much time waiting to meet him he was HERE! And I wanted to see him and hold him and ooh and ahh too! — why wasn't this the end of my birth story?
I felt another contraction coming and asked if I could try to push. I pushed with every ounce of determination and strength I could find and somehow dislodged the placenta myself.
THANK YOU GOD.
Since my experience, I've heard through the grapevine that when a doctor has to forcibly remove your placenta, it feels like being ripped in two.

After I rested for a bit, Ben was placed on my chest and took to nursing like a champ. (We struggled getting Adam to latch. Ben knew what to do right away.) A nurse helped modest me take a bath (weird), I put on my own nightgown (so maybe I am a little bit vain - but those hospital gowns are HIDEOUS!) and at 8 a.m. we had our first visitor, Aaron's mom. After that, we had a steady stream of visitors all day/night Sunday and a few on Monday afternoon for a total of 30 visitors, mostly immediate family and a few close friends. Adam was a proud big brother. He talked to Ben in a high-pitched voice and wanted to hold his baby brother right away. Surprisingly, he didn't seem jealous at all and still doesn't even a month later. (I'm sure that it helped that he received numerous "big brother" gifts from people, too.) The only time he seems annoyed is when I nurse Ben and can't play with him during feedings.
By Monday, Aaron and I were running on empty - three hours of sleep over a 36-hour period, and those three hours of sleep only because we sent Ben to the nursery. Our hospital strongly encourages "rooming in," or keeping your baby in the room with you at all times, but we were both exhausted and needed just a few hours to recharge. We knew we'd get uninterrupted sleep if we weren't constantly checking on Ben.
Even though we were exhausted and I was healing, all we wanted to do was get home, sleep in our bed, and begin our "new normal" as a family of four. We chose to be discharged a day early and actually went out to Chili's with my family after leaving the hospital. In retrospect, that was probably a little over-zealous, but I knew it would be awhile before I'd be having dinner at a restaurant again. Ben slept the whole time in his car seat.

Ben has been a great baby - and super cuddly! His favorite position is up on your shoulder, all scrunched up in a ball. I think that's how he was in utero. So far he lets anyone hold him - it doesn't matter if the person is anxious or nervous or awkward around babies. He's been held by family, friends, and members of our softball team. He smiles already, has rolled over from his stomach to his back a few times, and knows his A,B,Cs (ha ha!) He's extremely strong for being only a month old. I don't know what he weighs, but he wears three month outfits so I'm guessing he's 13 or 14 pounds. My only complaints are that his days and nights are mixed up, he struggles with gas/pooping, and he eats ALL THE TIME (every two hours). I feed him up to 12 times a day, and the constant feeding on demand gets old fast. I breastfed Adam for seven months and that's my goal this time, too, even though I hate the thought of pumping at work again.

After a rollercoaster pregnancy, I'm so, so, so relieved that Ben was born healthy. Throughout my pregnancy people asked me if I wanted a boy or girl, and I don't think they fully believed me when I said I didn't care as long as the baby was healthy. All of the stars have to be perfectly aligned in order to carry a healthy baby to term - so many things can happen to disturb the balance along the way - that when you deliver a healthy baby, you feel truly blessed. And that's how I feel. We have two beautiful, healthy sons. I don't want to play Russian roulette again. I can't imagine going through another mentally and physically grueling pregnancy like I did with Ben, not to mention the fact that my recovery was much, much harder than with Adam (my stomach wall separated from carrying such a large baby, I had painful hemmies, I broke out in a crazy hormone-induced super itchy rash a few days after delivery, etc.)
And yet I don't know that our family is complete. I'm open to the idea of adoption within the next few years. (I can picture us with a little girl from China.) Who knows. Maybe I'll change my mind once Ben is older and my memory starts getting fuzzy.

Right now Ben is snoozing in his swing and Adam is playing with his Legos and I feel closer than ever to Aaron (I love that he loves his family so much. He is an unbelievably helpful hands-on dad). Life is good. I am blessed beyond blessed.

Beach ball

When I dropped Adam off at daycare yesterday, his 2-year-old friend, Morgan, walked up to me, pointed at my gigantic pregnant belly, and announced, "BALL!"
"She was up north at her cabin this weekend, and I bet she was playing with a beach ball," my daycare provider Mary laughed.
"BALL!" she announced again, this time lifting my dress to get a better look.
I laughed and Mary laughed and even Morgan started laughing.
"No, this is a baby," I told her.
"Baby BALL!" she announced.
If you can't laugh, you might cry, so I try to keep on laughing.

I am a patient girl ...

I am still pregnant. It's been draining for me mentally & physically. At my 40-week apppointment yesterday, my doctor said I was 3 cm dilated - an extra centimeter from my last appointment (we went to Stillwater with friends on Memorial Day and did a ton of walking. Maybe that helped?), nearly 100 percent effaced/thinned (my cervix is ready), and Baby is head down and ready to launch.
The doc stripped my membranes, which was more uncomfortable than painful. Basically she used her fingers to 'sweep' my cervix and separate the cervix from the amniotic sac. This is supposed to help speed things up as far as labor, but I think it only works when Baby is ready to arrive. I know people who had their membranes stripped three times with no results, and others who had it done once and said they went into labor less than 24 hours later.
"I'd be surprised if you weren't in labor within the next 24 to 48 hours," Dr. S. told me. "And if, by some chance, you're not, come back in Friday and I'll strip your membranes again, but I really don't think I'll be seeing you Friday."
"What happens if it doesn't work on Friday?" I asked, hoping she would say something about inducing me.
"I don't think that will be an issue. Your body is ready and something will happen after stripping your membranes twice in one week," she told me.
I was in a state of euphoria all afternoon. The end was near!
I went back home and worked for a little bit, got Adam from daycare, went grocery shopping, and made dinner. Bring on this baby!!
Last night, Aaron skipped his softball game because I started having sporadic contractions. They weren't quite Braxton Hicks, they weren't quite like I had with Adam (an intense tightening of the uterus), they were more of a cramping/pelvic pinching pressure and they were coming about every 40 minutes. Could this be it?
We made arrangements for a friend to come over in the middle of the night should I go into active labor at, say, 3 a.m. We put my parents on "high alert." (In other words, answer your damn cell phone if we call!!) We put our hospital bags in the kitchen. I did the dishes and swept the floor (who wants to come home to a dirty house?) and read Adam some books before bed. It was the first time it hit me that this could be our last time together, just Adam and I, before he was no longer our only child. It made me feel sort of sad in a way. He knows Button is coming, he knows he's going to be a big brother, but he doesn't fully comprehend just how much life is going to change. I stared into his big green eyes as I was tucking him in and he giggled and said, "You're looking at me and I'm looking at you."
"I love you," I told him, feeling sentimental.
"I love you," he replied. "Will you read me another book? A little one? I want another book! READ ME ANOTHER BOOK, MOM! I WANT ANOTHER BOOK!! DON'T LEAVE MY ROOM! I WANT ANOTHER BOOK!" (So much for an emotional moment.)
I went downstairs to watch the news with Aaron, then went to bed around 10 p.m. Just like that, my contractions fizzled out. I had a few in the middle of the night but nothing consistent enough to be the 'real deal.'
And so Aaron got up and went to work as usual this morning, I brought Adam to daycare, I came home and worked - very similar to yesterday's routine only this time I wasn't feeling euphoric. I was feeling deflated. When will this little one arrive?!
It's been nice working from home this week, even though I miss the social interaction. I just didn't think I could handle the well-intentioned "STILL no baby?!?" comments in the office. Plus I'm not feeling 100 percent (why am I SO wiped out?), I didn't want to drive downtown and deal with parking, I didn't want to take the bus, and I didn't want to worry about going into labor while at work. Also? I didn't want strangers in the skyway staring at me like I'm some exotic zoo animal. (Haven't they ever seen a really, really pregnant woman before?)
So I made my appointment for Friday morning, all the while hoping that I won't need to keep it. I am grateful that Button will be full-term when I know so many babies are born prematurely — with moderate to severe health issues — but it's incredibly hard not to feel manic depressive when your due date comes (yeah! the magical day has arrived!) and goes (boo! the magical day has gone!)
In the (somewhat modified words) of Fugazi: "I am a patient girl, I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait ..."

This baby is in no rush whatsoever

I had my 39-week doctor's appointment yesterday and my doctor told me there have been no changes as far as dilating/effacing and it doesn't appear that my body is preparing for labor in any way. She can tell I'm uncomfortable and mentally drained but doesn't want to induce me just yet. And to be honest, I don't really believe in early inductions so I'm OK with that. I mean, women have been delivering healthy babies since the dawn of time, long before the invention of Pitocin and forced contractions and medically-unnecessary c-sections. It's not as if my baby is in distress in any way - it's just ME that's in distress, and I'll survive. "Think of it this way," my mom said to me after I told her about my appointment. "As long as your baby is in your womb, you won't have to listen to it crying." So true! And this way I can look forward to reading the books I just purchased, rather than waiting to read them until I return to work in August. So ... I made my 40-week appointment for June 1, where my membranes will be stripped (that sounds awful, doesn't it? But really I think it sounds worse than it is) and if that doesn't get the show on the road, I will be induced either June 5 or 6. I don't like the idea of being induced, but I do like the idea of having an "end date" and a light at the end of the tunnel, so that's the plan for now. I just keep hoping Button will arrive before then ... maybe this weekend? Fingers crossed!

Waiting for Button to arrive

I am SO CLOSE to my due date (according to my 10-week ultrasound I'm due May 28 - in three days, and according to my doctor's office and my estimated last cycle, I'm due June 2) and I feel like a (really round) kid anticipating Christmas. Is today the big day? Will we get to meet Baby Button today? When will we get to know if we have another son or a daughter? Who will Button look like? How big will he/she be?
And then there are the labor and delivery thoughts that follow me throughout the day.
Will my water break on the bus? (God I hope not. "I'm so sorry, sir, you might want to move. You're about to be sitting in my amniotic fluid.") Will it break while I'm walking through the skyway? Will people think I wet my pants? Will it be a little gush or Niagra Falls? I read somewhere that only 8 percent of all pregnant women experience their water breaking, so maybe I'll be in the other 92 percent again. (The nurse had to manually break my water with Adam.)
Will my contractions be the same as they were with Adam, or completely different? Will I know - without a doubt - that I'm in active labor? Will I be able to labor at home for awhile, or feel like I should head straight to the hospital? Will I have the resolve/strength to skip the epidural? (I had a HORRIBLE reaction to the epi when having Adam ... Aaron said it was like I had Parkinson's disease, I couldn't stop shaking, and I couldn't catch my breath - it felt like I had an elephant on my chest.) Will I tear? Will Button catch on to breastfeeding right away?
Yesterday I had a particularly trying day at work. I was tired (sleeping is a challenge now that I'm carrying a mini watermelon around on my belly), I was uncomfortable, I was ANNOYED with the number of stupid people who asked, "Still no baby?!" I hit a wall mentally. I know I only have DAYS left of this pregnancy, but sometimes it feels as if I will be pregnant forever. My boss allowed me to work from home today, and after a great night of rest last night, I feel much, much better. I guess I just needed some quality sleep (and a break from the freak-show stares I receive when I'm working downtown) for an attitude adjustment. I have a doctor's appointment in 30 minutes and hopefully my doc tells me I've dilated even more. I know she can't predict when Button will come, but it sure would be nice to hear these words "I'd be surprised if you're still pregnant in a day or two."
I am so ready to meet this baby.