It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Well, how to sum up labor and delivery... not an easy thing to do in one sentence, but I guess if I had to I would say that "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times" is the best way to put it. I mean, there is no feeling more awesome than pushing a new life into the world, hearing that first cry, coming face to face with the little person that you have loved all along. But then, there is no worse feeling in the world than the force of contractions, the pressure and pain of seven pounds of baby being expelled from the body.
Now, just to be clear, I have not been in labor this whole time since my last post. Mostly I have been sleep deprived and otherwise occupied with a kid on my boob, so that is why I haven't written for some time. Alex Reid Makepeace (Lex) was born on July 11th at 0119 hours. He came into the world in a hurry. Well, sort of...
We got to the hospital at about 10:00. An ultrasound confirmed that his head was down, and so we were set to start the induction process. At 1:45 they gave me the medication to start the induction. I didn't know what to expect. I was told it could take days. But it was almost immediately afterwards that the contractions began. Things were fairly textbook for the first several hours, slow and steady progress. At 9:00 pm I was 3cm and fairly uncomfortable, so they gave me some morphine and then I went into the tub. I was in the tub until 11, and while I was in there the contractions were fairly tolerable. As soon as I got out they were noticably worse. Much, much worse. They checked me and I was 6cm, so at that point they moved me over to labor and delivery and got me set up with an epidural. After that it was like labor on speed. Things just got crazy fast. I waited for the pain to lessen, but it continually got worse. Then I started feeling pressure. And then I was pushing despite myself. The nurse kept telling me not to push, but I just couldn't stop. I was laying on my side, all curled up, and she wanted me to move on my back. I honestly felt as though I could not move, but finally she managed to get me on my back so she could check me. As soon as I rolled on my back, there was this gush of fluid and I could feel that little head coming. That's when I lost control and the screaming started. The nurse said "I guess I don't need to check you, the head is crowning." So then there was chaos, doctors rushing in, instruments being set up in haste, and then all of a sudden, there he was. A perfect little round face, a healthy pink hue and a good set of lungs. How to describe those first few moments with him... well, there simply are no words for it. I still look at him sometimes and just can't believe it... can't believe that he's here, that he's ours, that he's so beautiful. He's wonderful, and I just know when I look at him that I have everything I've ever wanted in life: three beautiful children to love. And as tired as I can get sometimes, I never get tired of being a mom. It's truly a blessing.

The best laid plans...

It all started with the Slurpee on Tuesday. I went to the store, more or less just to go for a little stroll. So I got a Slurpee when I was there. The lady in front of me was scanning every single lottery ticket she probably ever bought since 1999. Not only that, but the woman working the till was commenting on every single ticket and conversing to a degree that I felt was excessive given the fast growing lineup. All I had was a Slurpee so I put a toonie on the counter and said that I didn't need my change nor a receipt. She said "You have to wait in line like everyone else," and I reiterated that I didn't need the receipt, and she said all snarky like "It DOEST"T WORK that way". So I put my slurpee down on the counter and said "I'm not going to wait in line for half an hour just to buy a slurpee. I simply don't need it that bad." And I walked out. I am not usually a contraversial person. Not at all, Not in the least. If anything, I'm overly accomadating, people that know me can verify this. If, say, someone cooked something that was terrible tasting, I would eat it just to be polite, even if it actually made me vomit later. This actually happened once. But this time I took a stand. It was an important isssue, I simply wasn't going to let it pass. It felt pretty good. I had a glass of Crystal Light when I got home, which was refreshing all the same and less calories.
That was an ordeal, but I got over it. Little did I know that another ordeal was looming on the horizon, somewhat similar to the Slurpee ordeal but on a far grander scale. Wednesday morning started off well. ("Today's the Day!" I announced as the alarm sounded). We got to the hospital, were seen straight away by the doc, she performed a fairly painful but ultimately successful procedure to turn the baby head down, I was put into a room on Antepartum and hooked to a monitor. They were calling my GP to get the induction started.
And then it just all went to hell. A nurse comes in and just like that informs me that they're discharging me because there aren't enough beds on the unit. I was so upset. How could they do that? They said they'll plan to induce the following day, but I was like "Oh, and this baby's gonna stay like this for twenty four hours?" Highly unlikely. So I basically went through that horrible procedure for no reason at all whatsoever. I'm basically 99% sure that the baby has turned now into a COMPLETELY different position, and that was the whole point in inducing me the same day as the version. But there's no reasoning with those people, they're even less sympathetic than the crazy slurpee Nazi, basically it's "you're turfed. We don't care if you end up needing a CSection or whatever. Bad timing. Toodles." I was bawling. I mean, here I thought we were having our baby, and instead, I was going home. And they can't give me any kind of gauruntees for tomorrow. If there's room on the unit tomorrow they'll call me. If the baby's head is still down they'll induce me. If not, they may try turning it again but it depends, if they don't then they may plan a C Section or then again maybe not, it all depends on which doctors are there and bla bla blah. I'm frustrated. Extremely.
And yet, what can I do? I guess I'll just have to hope for the best tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow at this time I will be having my baby or close to it, but I don't hold out much hope at this point. Life sucks sometimes, first you don't get your slurpee and then you don't get to have your baby. Anyways, gotta go and try to sleep. Tomorrow's a big day. Maybe.

Times Up

Looks like tomorrow is the big day. The baby is gotten itself into some kind of a crazy position, and they were going to try to turn it twice last week, but it moves so much still that they decided not to bother trying until they could do it in conjunction with a planned induction. So tommorow I go to the hospital at 8:00 and they will try to turn the baby so it's head is down. Once they get it turned, they will induce me into labor so that the baby will hopefully be born before it decides to move again. It seems crazy. At first, I was all excited, thinking "I'll get to meet and hold my baby soon". But now the mix of emotions is complex.

It just seems as though the entire pregnancy has gone entirely too quickly. I can still recall being in the lab at work and peering at a pregnancy test at an odd angle, trying to determine whether it was positive or negative. I tried to quell the stirring of excitement, thinking it was probably negative and I was just imagining the line. A blood test would settle it. So I asked the nurse practioner to draw a tube of blood from me. Nice thing about working with docs and that. So she did and I sent the blood away, awaiting a result. I was expecting the result to be negative. But when I checked my faxes a little later, there it was: Randine Sorowski Makepeace: Beta HcG: 12.

So then my heart does a little flutter, because it's positive!!! But then my heart sinks a bit, because 12 is a ridiculously low number. Here we go again, I think. Another failing pregnancy. But a subsequent reading three days later was in the thousands!! The baby was thriving. At that point the pregnancy stretched before me, it was early November and I wasn't due until July. But the time has flown. Weeks turn into months, and now here I am, mere hours away from (potentially) coming face to face with the little person inside of me. The little person who I have grown so familiar with as it lives and moves within me. The pregnancy has been so wonderful, I think especially so since it was so very wanted for such a long time. Everything was such a high point. Like my first ultrasound, I was so nervous I thought I might puke. But when I saw the little jelly bean on the screen, with a great heartbeat, I was so elated. And then when I was at the end of the first trimester, I used to take the Doppler home from work on the weekends and listen to the baby's hear beating. I could listen to it for so long and never get sick of it.

So tonight as I look at my baby bump, I feel some sadness that soon it will be no more. Well, I suppose the bump will still be there in some shape or form. But no more hiccuping. No more little squirming or nudging. And what makes this particularly sad for me is that I know I will never experience these sensations again.

Am I nervous for tomorrow? Not really. I feel ready. I began this blog on the fifth of January, 2007 as I began this journey. In the meantime, there have been 135 entries, probably as many pregnancy tests, eleven ultrasounds, many laughs and a few tears. The journey has been longer than I expected it would be, but I don't know that I would change it, because it makes this moment in time even more special for me. Tears fall freely from my face as I even try to imagine holding my baby and knowing that he or she is finally here! At times it seemed it seemed impossible and at times we were ready to give up. But now, Times Up. I am ready to begin a new journey as a new mother once again.

32 Weeks

32 Weeks, things are moving along. Me, I am mostly waddling along at this point. I fear that this is going to be a big baby indeed. I'm usually a fairly small preggo person, but with this one it seems like all hell is breaking loose. My weight gain is basically on track, and I measure normally, if anything its on the low end of normal, but still my stomach seems like it could not get much bigger. I'm feeling pretty good, though. A little tired here and there but overally pretty OK. I was at the doctor on Monday and it was good. The baby is still sideways, so she said if doesn't move by my next appointment then we'll talk about what the implications are. I think it will move, though. I've never had problems like that before, so I think it'll be a breeze like last time. When Payton was born it just seemed crazy that you could have a baby and feel 100% before, during and after labor! The labor was just so textbook. I woke up at three a.m, gripped by pain. I shook Geoff awake "it's time to go to the hospital," just like in the movies! By the time we got there I was a cool 4cm, so they put in the epidural straight away. After that it was all smooth sailing, popsicles, ginger ale and Jello.
Well, I'm still aways away from that point, but I have one month left of work, and I am starting to try to slowly organize things a bit for my departure. It is weird that is coming so fast. At first I thought I might miss this place, but now I think I'll be like "so long, suckers!"
Things at home are fairly swell. The van is having some more issues, and is in the shop once again. Hopefully the repairs will not be expensive this time nor take too long. It's hard to say. I've definately been cursed. Whenever we have some cash on hand, things go awry. We have some extra cash now and what happens: first Geoff gets a traffic ticket (don't ask, he's a dumb ass), and then the cat goes in heat so we have to get her fixed, and then the van starts overheating. This is exactly what happened before when we happened upon some extra money when I got my retro pay. The muffler fell off my van and then the damn dog starting vomiting bile and landed up in the vet for three days on IV and needing exploratory surgery. Damn dog. All she does is lay around and yap.
Spring is in the air, and the weather is finally getting better. I don't have the garden in yet, mostly because I don't have a garden, so that seems to be a problem. I do have a flower bed, though, and am thinking of planting some flowers maybe this weekend. Last year I had some good success with petunias and snapdragons. So I shall try that again. I guess I really am getting old because I'm starting to enjoy stuff like that more. Also, I notice that the young folk are different these days. Today, a patient comes into see the doc wearing a shirt that says "Free Breathalizer. Blow Below" and it had an arrow pointing down to-- well, I'll let you guess which body part, but let me say that it was in rather poor taste. Why one would wear such a shirt at all is beyond me, and further more, to a place of business! Give your head a shake buddy. I might have thought that was cool when I was 14. And he wasn't a teenager. He was a grown man. Honestly. Some people just never grow up.

Thirty Weeks

Well, today I turn 30. Last time I turned 30 I was sad, distraught, suicidal, contemplating whether or not to turn my back on it all, buy a houseboat and live my life on the open sea, endlessly adrift in my middle ageness. But this time I'm happy to be turning thirty, because it is only weeks that I'm talking about and not years, so that makes a big difference. So now things are going well. I'm feeling pretty OK, I get a little tired sometimes, finding it hard to stay up past nine o'clock most days. But I don't mind getting the extra sleep now. Soon enough sleep will be a distant memory. I have an online baby pool, which some people have participated in (and some people have participated in twice, which, technically, is not really allowed, I might add, hint hint, mom.) I must say that I'm surprised that many people are guessing the weight quite low, like in the 7's. I have to say that I would be very surprised if the baby was anything less that 8ish, because statistics say that each baby gets bigger. Gage was 7-13, Payton was 8-4, so if the pattern continues (which it should, barring of course, that I take up a heroin addiction, which I probably won't on account of the fact that I'm scared of needles. I still haven't gotten that Tetanus shot I was supposed to get back in the fall of '07. If you need your memory refreshed, its all there in "So thats what letter openers are for") it could be close to nine pounds. My guess is 8-11. I think that seems about right.
Last night I did something which I thought I might never do, which is to go and see Tina Fey the idea stealing wench in her movie which was blatantly stolen from me and now she is capatilizing on it and I have now contributed to her further success by giving my seveny three dollars or whatever ridiculous price they are charging now for admission. But it had to be done in the name of market research/recon. It was actually a very good movie, two thumbs up. Actually four, because the baby was enjoying it as well, moving around a lot. But that could have just been the sixteen ounces of pop I drank. But in any case, it was good. And it was actually quite different than my book, so I feel better knowing that.
Other than that, not much new with me. The cat is still not speaking to me after I tried to establish communication with her last week. I'm pretty sure that she's angry with me, and I realize that the nuances of feline speech are perhaps more intricate than I thought. Meowing seems simple, but it's apparently a complex language. So I've aborted my mission for now. I will need to do some background research first, but unfortunately, this is slow going because there isn't a wealth of information available online about cat communication.
As for me and my writing, well, things haven't been going well. I've been sending out query letters to agents since November, but haven't really gained any ground. I've gotten only rejection letters so far, some replies are still pending, but it's hard to be really hopeful. It's discouraging, but there are still avenues to persue and I believe that persistence and patience will maybe some day pay off. If not, I continue to write and work at another book. I have decided that ultimately, I am a writer whether or not the greater publishing community thinks so or not. Maybe it is all a pipe dream, but I once heard the words from a very wise source "you can take a stand or just compromise, you can work real hard or just fantasize". OK. So it was KISS that sang that in "God gave rock and roll to you", but still. You can't argue thier success. You simply can't.

Twenty Nine Weeks

Day one of cat communication log:
May 6, 1800h: I have tried initiating communication with the cat. Said a few sentences to her. She maintained good eye contact throughout, but did not meow back. After approximately thirty seconds, she twinkled her nose, and then departed. I am not sure if the nose twinkling is significant or not. Perhaps it is a non verbal cat gesture. Perhaps her nose was itchy. At this point so early in my research, it is hard to say. I am also not sure if her hasty retreat from the conversation is indicitive of A)her inability to understand my primitive meows or B)that I may have inadvertently said something to offend her. I am a little discouraged by my lack of progress with her, but feel that with some patience and persistence, the endeavor is worth persuing. I am contemplating immersing myself more fully into the cat culture, though this may be difficult for me because of A)my inability to lick myself "down there" (have tried sereral times, but unfortunately, my species lacks the agility of the cat species.) and B) the logistics of using a cat box due to both the size and position of the litter box. At any rate, I will have to reevaluate my tactics and try again to initiate contact at a later date.
As for other aspects of my life, things seem to be on track. Twenty nine weeks now and things are going quite well. I am getting fairly big, am expecting a big baby. High eight's, I would assume, hopefully not much bigger. I want a baby that still looks like a baby, after all, and not a six month old crammed into a onesie and jammed into a bassinette, although I suppose at this point, such a baby would indeed suffice, though I would prefer a somewhat sleeker model, more aerodynamic like. But I do go on... the point is, I'm getting big. This morning I changed my shirt five times because the first four made me look too big, but then finally at the fifth, I was like "well, OK. I guess I am actually big, and I guess it's not just the clothes." So I'll have to learn to deal. Interestingly, this fear of getting big and having a big baby does not really stop me from doing things that could lead to further bigness, on my part or the baby's. For example, today after lunch I wanted to try the new Brownie Ice Cap they have at Tims. Tim's is about two blocks away from work, so I was thinking, it could be a nice walk. But then I was like "who am I kidding. I don't want to walk. What's the point of having such a flashy vehicle if all I'm going to do is walk everywhere I go??" So I drove. And then today, I got this bag of fudge from Wal Mart. I was going to just eat a piece or two. But then I actually ate several. But anyways, I believe that that should be OK because there is no trans fat in them, so it's practically health food anyways.
And speaking of food, I have recently heard some news which rather disturbs me. The pickle industry is diversifying into the frozen food business. I have learned of a new product called "The Picklesicle" which is precisely what is sounds like it would be: frozen pickle juice on a stick. I don't know what kind of a person came up with this, or better yet: who looked at the business plan and was like "Yeah, this sounds like a sure thing. I want to sink all my money into this." What is this world coming to? I mean why stop at pickle juice? Surely gravy would make a nice frozen treat as well!
But back to me and my pregnancy. Here's the rundown: lots of hearburn, a moderate degree of back ache, some irritability (though I'm sure this is not due to the pregnancy, it's just my nature), names are more or less finalized: Olivia Jacqueline for a girl (the Jacqueline, of course, is after Jackie O., my idol. Well, actually I don't really know who she is. I think she was married to some politician or something, though, so that sounds good). For a boy Hunter something something. The middle name we don't really know at this point. Geoff wants it to be Geoffrey, which I think is a little nervy on his part since it is ME who is carrying this baby and will be pushing it out into the world. But whatever. I guess I may end up letting him have his wish, because technically I'm supposed to be married to him and care about what he wants, or some such thing like that, according to my wedding vows and so on and so forth. Should have read the fine print when I signed on for that, let me tell you. Anyways, as for the birth, Lorrie has generously agreed to do the fluting, but I'm a little ambivalent about that seeing as she doesn't actually own a flute, so I'm not convinced that she really practices or even knows any songs for that matter. So I am compiling a list of songs which have special meaning to me, or are just songs that I've always liked. I only hope that the CD players on L&D will play burned CD's, because some CD players don't. Anyways, lots of time to worry about that. But the thing is: time is going SOOO fast. It makes me a little nervous for some reason. I'm already at the point of biweekly dr appointments, which is actually good because I do enjoy seeing the doctor, which is strange because I work in a doctors office and am around doctors all day every day. But, anyways. I think I shall go now, as I am getting tuckered. It's not easy drinking ice caps all day and eating fudge. Very tiring. Very much. Will report later on developments with the cat. Have a good night.

26 Weeks

Things are going well. Time seems to be really flying now! I can't believe I'm already headed into the third trimester- the final frontier. I'm getting excited, but it seems to be a more subdued excitement. I guess that's what happens with baby #3. We have some preliminary names picked out, are not 100% sure but so far we were thinking of Hunter for a boy and either Olivia or Bailey for a girl. Everyone seems to have an opinion as to the gender. There is only opinion which I really agree with, which is that "time will tell". Myself, I try not to speculate about the gender. We already have a boy and a girl, so either way it's all good. They posted my position today at work, so that was kind of weird. It was kind of bittersweet, and at first I wasn't sure why it should be saddening. But then, first off, these days just about anything is saddening-- doesn't take much when you're six months preggo. And secondly, I guess I just feel like so much of my identity and sense of self worth comes from that professional identity. Stepping outside of that, even temporarily, is somewhat sad. I feel like I'm leaving a little piece of myself behind. As much as I complain about work, I do find the job rewarding and interesting and, even at times, fun. I get to stick people with needles, come on. Who wouldn't love that? But I guess, when the time comes I think I will be more than ready to go. But even yesterday was wierd. I stayed home with Payton because she was sick (note to readers: when a three year old tells you their tummy hurts- NOT a good idea to pick them up and let them bury their head in your chest. Take it from me- this will lead to getting vomit down your shirt.) Anyways, she was sick so I was home. Gage was at school. And it was like, OK. 0730- breakfast. 0745- tidy kitchen. 0800- now what?? I'm used to rush, rush in the morning. Rush, rush, rush, when I get home from work. But I suppose I will settle into a routine soon enough and I guess when the baby is actually out I will be a whole lot busier.
Other things are going basically OK. Geoff and I have some recent conversations which have left me disturbed. The other day I asked him if he would still stay married to me if I accidentally killed the dog. He said, yeah, prob., because if it was an accident then he would not really hold it against me. And then I said "well, what if it was accidentally on purpose?" and he said "well, I guess it would sort of depend on what that means, exactly." So I said, "OK. Lets say that I slipped a ligature around JDs neck when she was asleep and tightened it until her eyes bulged out and she went completely flaccid" And he says that no, he basically would leave me if I did that and not only that but try to take the kids as well. And I said, well, that's not really fair. I mean, a dog is not a trade off for the kids? After all, a dog is only a dog, and it's basically easy come, easy come so far as that goes. But then he said something about killing animals being a sign of serious mental problems, and I was like, well, that's good to know because I saw you kill a squirrel once, which he claims was an accident- because it was on the highway when we were driving to the lake and it would have been dangerous to go into the othe lane to avoid it. But still. Some say there is no such thing as accidents. Or that's coincidences that they say that about. But for the most part coincidences are accidents and the two terms are interchangeable, so...
And then one day I asked the cat, Brady, if it was hard to be a cat, and she nodded. I told Geoff all about it, all excited that I had broken the cat down and established communication. But then he just dismissed it, like I was crazy or something. And then he accused me of lying! saying that cats don't nod and that I'm just 'seeing what I want to see'. Of all the nerve. I mean, isn't trust the foundation for a marriage? I read that somewhere, and I beleive it was a pretty good source- Cosmo maybe. So I guess our marriage may be all a big sham. I don't know.
Onto other matters. I have been most disturbed lately by the advertisment for "Baby Mama" starring one Ms Tina Fey, which is about a surrogate mother. Now, you may now that I have written a book on the subject, a book which I once believed to be a very novel and original idea. And now it's all over. They stole my idea and I blame THIS website for the thievery. I posted my ideas for my book, and even some of the book itself, on this site and it was one of my supposed fans who sold me down the river to Tina Fey and gave her the idea. So I am going to try to find out which one of you betrayed me, and once I do: make no mistake: I will slit your throat. Maybe not very deep, OK. In all likelihood, it will probably a fairly superficial cut. I don't want any jail time or anything. The idea of sodomy does not appeal to me. But still... whoever you are, and you KNOW who you are: be afraid.
Now you may think that I would learn from my mistake. But that is not really the case with me, I believe in just barreling ahead. So what I am going to do now is just go ahead and post the first chapter of my new book, which I have recently started writing, since my last book is basically a no go at this point, thanks in no small part to Tina Fey, AKA idea stealing WHORE. Anyways, thanks for reading. Good day. And for you out there, the turn coat yellow belly double crossing snake: a word of advice: Sleep with one eye open. Okay, that was five words. Anyways, that is all for now.

16 Weeks and Feeling Fine

Hello. So the time is really flying by. I am already sixteen weeks five days, so that is quite good. I'm already into the second trimester. It's kind of bittersweet for me, because this is my last pregnancy (for sure this time), I want to really enjoy it, don't want to wish it away. But it's going quickly nonetheless. A few more weeks will be the halfway point already. I am starting to show a bit more now, and am into maternity clothes, which is exciting right now but five months from now I'm sure I will absolute these clothes that excite me so today. But I guess that's the way it is. Novelty fades fast.
Onto other news. A major crisis is looming in my life. My vehicle, Safari Blue, has suffered a major set back with her engine. She seized up on December 10th and is STILL recovering from this. It is totally frustrating not having a vehicle. Safari Blue has been in the shop for almost two months and that sketchy guy keeps putting me off "Next week it will be done". But next week has come and gone several times over and I am still carpooling with my husband. I guess that's OK. It's pretty much the only time we ever get alone together, so maybe we should embrace the oppurtunity. But mostly all we do is talk about the weather. But I guess that's the way marriage goes. As I said before, novelty fades fast.
The other thing that is new with me is I finished the book I was working on!!!! I finished it on or about mid January. I was really excited to finish the final chapter. But then I was sort of saddened. Its fairly anti climactic to finish a book. It's like you spend so much of your time and energy working on it, thinking about it, and then all of a sudden, its done. So now I am working on trying to get an agent, but that has not been going well. Writing the book actually seems like the easy part. I have written five literary agencies. Two rejected me, although I have to say that so far as rejection letters go they were fairly optimistic-- citing the reason as "market conditions" or "current workload back up". One actually said that my project "was interesting and inspired with many appealing elements". But it was still a no. A third person said they would read my manuscript- for a price. A large price, and even that wouldn't gauruntee that they would represent me. There are two others out there in limbo, replies pending. It's been about two months, so I am considering this as a good sign- maybe it means that they are considering it or thinking about it. Usually they are pretty quick to fire off those rejection letters.
Anyways, that is about it for me for now.

11 Weeks and Feeling Chunky

This post is from Jan 2/07
I had saved it until I could fix my USB, but I am still no further ahead on that issue, so I'll just go ahead and post it without the pictures.
Hello again. It's been a while since I've written on here. Hopefully there are some of you still out there. If not, well, what the heck. Anyways, the last time I wrote on here I believe I was saying that my husband wanted to start wearing condoms (plug your ears mom) and so I was getting worried about that. Luckily for me, the Fates have taken my side on this issue and mere days after that last post I got a postive pregnancy test. TOO LATE!! I told my husband. The pregnancy came in just under the wire as I like to say, and things have been going great ever since. My doctor has me on these crazy hormone supplements, and so far they seem to be making all the difference. We had an ultrasound the week before christmas which was COMPLETELY NORMAL, so that was exciting. I'm like Pavlov's dogs when I go to that ultrasound place-- operant conditioning has taught me that I become psychologically traumatized when I go for ultrasound so as soon I see the room and the gel and the table I become physically ill and really anxious and tense. I didn't even want to look at the screen, such was my fear. But staightaway the ultrasound chic (I'm pretty sure that's not her official title) said 'Its OK' and then I looked and I saw the most beatiful little blobby that I've ever seen. So cute. So blobby, with a strong heart rate of 169 and moving it's little stubbly arms and legs. So I'm due on July 19th, which makes me now 11 weeks, 4 days.


I'm at this point now where my stomach is starting to pop out a bit, which at first I thought was great. Now I'm becoming disullusioned because every time I catch my side profile it seems apparent that I'm at some in between point where I'm not really fully 'showing' but my stomach does seem to be chunkier than usual, which gives the impression that I've hit the holiday egg nog too hard. Which I haven't. I don't even like egg nog. I don't even know what that stuff is. What the hell is 'nog'? and how are eggs a drink? Anyways.


So that is the main thing for me. Other than that-- Christmas was good, the kids are doing well, growing like weeds, though I'm uncertain as to how this is possible when I see what they eat. We took them to a buffet on New Years and what do they take. Payton: a bowl of Borscht and a bowl of Jello. I'm looking at her food and the $6.99 they charged for it and thinking 'something doesn't add up." Gage: A bowl of mashed potatoes and a bowl of Jello. I don't get it. I really don't. Anyways, this is it for now. This is a picture of me, pregant, 11 weeks. It may be difficult to really appreciate because my husband hasn't quite figured out how to work the 'zoom' feature on the camera. This could take a while. I'm still working on getting the toilet seats down, so... I basically don't hold out much hope.

Okay. I can't post the picture. Some problem with my USB port. Will try to adress this sometime soon, but I'm sure you can imagine well enough what I look like in the meantime.