The worst Father's Day Weekend Ever.

Today marks the 23rd anniversary of the worst Father's Day weekend my family went through when I was growing up... 

It was the summer between my 5th and 6th grade years. I'm pretty sure it was a Friday night, June 19th 1992. My parents were arguing, again. My dad left on his motorcycle, which was normal. My brother and I were playing video games and my mom had some friends come over. I'm not sure why they asked my brother and I if we wanted to go with them to the bar... looking back, probably not the best idea, but then again, historically, my parents aren't really known for making super great decisions... 

Anyway, back to the story:

They asked us if we wanted to go to the bar for a little while and my brother said it was up to me. Man, have I regretted that decision everyday since. I wanted to go, I didn't want to sit around the house and play video games or watch my brother play video games all night, so off we went. 

My brother and I had a lot of fun while we were at the bar; we played pool, and he won a stuffed animal for me from the dreaded CLAW machine! Finally, the time came where my brother and I weren't welcome to hang out in the bar anymore because it was getting too late. The adults we were with decided to hit up a college party (another brilliant decision with two kids in tow). 

I remember this house and garage were full of college-aged people. There were people sitting in the living room, staring, unblinking, at the TV, people laughing loudly through the kitchen and in the garage the real party was going down. My brother and I didn't spend a lot of time in the garage, I'm not sure what exactly was going on in there, but it was wrong. My brother and I spent our time back and forth from the living room and the tiny back yard between the house and garage. It got boring fast. Until we saw the lights and heard the sirens. 

Man we begged my mom to run down the street and see what the commotion was about, but she said no. By this time, my mom was pretty wasted. Nonetheless, we stayed at that hell house. 

After what seemed like forever we were finally going to go home. My brother and I were falling asleep periodically in the living room, but once we knew we were leaving we got our second wind, happy to be leaving that very inappropriate place. But something was wrong. 

My mom was really upset and crying. Her friend's boyfriend was trying to help her find her purse and he offered to take us all home since my mom was in NO shape to drive. (pretty sure he wasn't either) Apparently my mom's purse was stolen and, because it was payday, all of her money for the week was in her purse. When it was finally found all of her money had been stolen. Our grocery money for the week. 

FINALLY we got home around 2 or 3 in the morning. My brother and I didn't go to sleep right away, we were sitting in the living room and my mom's friend's boyfriend dropped us off and left. My mom was on the couch, my brother and I on the floor when there was a knock on the door. It was my grandpa. 

He didn't say a word for me to know my dad wasn't coming home that night. I immediately burst into tears, my mom was hysterical. 

I just remember my mom screaming that she wanted my grandpa to take her to him, but he refused. She was in no shape to go to the hospital. (working in healthcare now, I appreciate my grandpa's decision even more) He didn't stay long, he had to get back. Right after he left my mom was on the phone calling the same guy that dropped us off. She wanted him to take her up to the hospital. 

My mom and I have never been super close. But that is probably the point in my life where she became absent. My brother and I were pretty much on our own after that. She spent the rest of that summer in a drunken stupor if she wasn't at work. If she was home she would just spit hate out of her mouth toward my brother and I; degrading, hurtful things no child should EVER hear from ANYONE. 

Back to the story.

Turns out my dad got in a wreck on his bike that night. I'm not sure how he found out where we were, but he had come to the house where all of us were! I guess he knocked on the door and one of the zombies answered. They didn't know who my mom was, they told my dad to get the fuck out of there. My brother and I must've been in the backyard at that time, damnit! My dad said he had come to that place to get the house key from my mom. If my brother and I would've been home, he wouldn't have needed it. :'(

Those lights and sirens were him. Becoming paralyzed. He claims he was "run off the road" by a guy who owed him money. I think its clear my dad was in no shape to operate any kind of vehicle. I'm confident my dad was drunk and high when he veered off that street and hit a HOUSE. 

I remember lots of tubes, I remember the tube coming out of his nose putting lots of green gunk in a canister. I remember him being suspended and rotated on a special bed for people who have broken their backs. I remember he became so thin I could see every bone in his body. I remember how hard in-patient rehab was for him. I remember how he lost his dignity being wheeled to the community bath in their rehab facility. I remember becoming very comfortable in a hospital. I remember hearing he would never walk again. I remember him coming home with his wheelchair. I remember my mom getting mad at him and trying to push him down the stairs in it. 

It took him a few years but he learned to walk again. :) He still has a lot of pain. He isn't the same man he once was. But he's my dad. And I have held myself accountable for what happened to him because I didn't want to be left home alone. 

I called him today, we both cried. He said its not my fault. I cried harder. 

I'm grateful he survived. 

He is why I'm a nurse. And why I have faith that people can overcome. 

Let's all self soothe!

Chugging along at 9 1/2 weeks now and before I know it, this kid is going to be doing quantum physics and most likely discovering the cure for cancer...

We've finally got a pretty good routine going on here lately. A solid nap during the day and bed time around 8pm... now what happens at night is a roll of the dice, sometimes we're up all the time, sometimes he sleeps mostly. Those nights we're up all the time and I'm at my wit's end, he always gives me a little grin, a smile, or he starts telling me about his dreams and bein' all laughy, and my frustration immediately goes away and I'm like, "It's cool little man, tell me all about it." -and BOOM! he's got me roped into his game and wrapped around his tiny, chubby finger.

You wanna play at 3am? Sounds good to me...

Seriously though I've gotten to the stage where I think he's awake in his bassinet, but he's not. He'll be making all sorts of noises, throwing his little arms and legs about, and I'm clinging to my bed because I don't WANT to get up! His whole bassinet will be shaking like he's got a few of his friends in there with him, maybe a DJ, and the whole shindig is catered. I'll drag myself to a sitting position and look in thinking "What the hell is going on in there?!"

I thought I heard the faint sound of "Party Rock"

It used to really bother me, but I'm learning that A) he's an active sleeper and B) when he does wake himself up, he is learning to SELF SOOTHE!! 

I never realized how scary Whoopi Goldberg looks here...

It's super cute when he does it too because he sucks on the side of his little fist. I'll hear him playing on his playmat or sitting in his bouncy chair and all the sudden I hear these really loud sucking noises and I know he's got his fist up to his mouth.

You should see the drool that accompanies his fist when he takes it away from his mouth.

It has the strength of tungsten steel.

I swear.

Mommy self soothing...

Honestly, I'm just happy to have him smiling at me again. We had a rocky couple of days there after he got his first round of shots. The nurse who gave him his shots cried and made me feel like an ass because I didn't cry. What I did feel bad about though was the look of betrayal he gave me as he was screaming in my face afterward. 

Hold me closer tiny pin cushion. 

No amount of self soothing could've helped him after that. It was Momma Bear to the rescue! Note to self for next time though... make sure daddy comes to hold his hands down... 

The You you didn't know you had in you.

Can you guys believe this kid is 8 weeks old now?? Holy crap. He gets his shots next week, and I have to say, a lot of people dread that appointment, but I ain't scurd! I figure, he tolerated a strange man cutting on his wiener, so what's a few pokes in his chubbed up thighs? <--- I'm SO happy to be able to say he has chubby little thighs. Besides, how big could these needles be?...

Hold still now...

So, something has been on my mind a lot. I spoke about it to a friend recently and wanted to share it with you guys to see if anyone else has experienced this phenomenon. I'm not quite sure what to call it... maybe the... "Meeting the New You" Phenomenon? Let me explain...

So, you grow up, you think you know who you are and how you behave in certain situations, that is, until you get pregnant. Then you realize that hormones are really behind the wheel. (fucking hormones...) and as the pregnancy goes along, for some reason you convince yourself that the pre-baby you will get right back to normal as soon the little one thrashes its little way out of your vagina literally ripping you inside out. 

Not the case... and this time, hormones are not entirely to blame.

You see, there's a woman inside of every woman, waiting patiently, biding her time, to come out and take over once that little bundle of joy so sweetly emerges. I'm serious.

She's one part Martha Stewart:

I can do EVERYTHING no problem at all!

One part Nervous Nelly:

Why is this baby cross eyed?!

Does it have a neurological disorder?!

I'M SURE IT HAS A NEUROLOGICAL DISORDER...

One part Modern Martyr: 

AND I have to do laundry, get groceries, clean the house, pay bills...

NOBODY DOES AS MUCH AS I DO!!!

OH GOD WHY IS IT CRYING AGAIN?!?!?!

One part Momma Bear:

I'll always protect you my little love

One part Lioness:

I will provide for you, and teach you

One part Wolf Woman:

I pity the fool that comes between me and my baby

I've heard women say they don't know they "can do it". I would venture to guess this woman who has these facets of personality is already inside of you. You may have even seen bits and pieces of her show herself, although in other situations. She's there, and when the time comes, she will emerge, and show herself in full force and the old you:

Nothing like a little 4Loco in a Grey Goose bottle to make ya feel high class.

As I was saying... the old you, will stand aside and watch this new lady in amazement of how she goes about doing what she has to do. Learn the babies cries, function on little sleep, sling dirty diapers like they ain't no thang, dodge the squirts, keep lovin on the pets, keep lovin on Daddy, and convince yourself your vagina is most certainly NOT going to fall out every time you sit on the toilet. 

On a serious note though, it really is like an out of body experience. What a roller coaster it is to bring a little human into this world. And once you think the ride is over (merely because they made their grand entrance) you learn the ride is just click, click, clickin' gettin started, and holy shit, make sure you're strapped in tight, because it's gonna be one hell of a ride. 

I'm glad I love roller coasters. 

just breathe.

to Hawaii and back...fat.

Holy crap! My boy is already 7 weeks old! Where has the time gone? Seems like just yesterday he was rip roarin' right outta my va-j-j. -Although that's healing according to the doc... TMI? I've adopted a hand sign that mimics the exit of a car wash... so if you see me do a weird hand sign that involves both my hands over top of each other with wiggly fingers pointing up and down, well, that's it.

Remember this gem?

Enough "woe is me'ing". Lets get up to speed... it's been awhile...

So... we just recently got back from a trip to Hawaii. It was a lot of fun, we went with friends. Vanson was just 33 days old when we took off and a lot of folks told me I should cancel the trip, but the doc said Vanson was in the clear. Apparently it's advised babies don't fly until they're at least a month old because their immune systems are SO fragile. But 33 days old?! We're in the clear! To tell the truth though, I had a lot of anxiety leading up to the trip... "What if he cries the whole time, the flight is 5 1/2 hours!" "How are we going to get through security with all of his stuff?" "What if I forget to pack something for him?" "What if he gets sick while we're there?" ... You get the idea. 

Hmmm. I'm sure I forgot something...

One of my besties helped me out in a major way and put together little gifts for the surrounding people on our flights. Attached was a note that had Vanson introduce himself and explain he was only 33 days old and he wasn't sure how he would do flying. The gifts included candy and ear plugs. Everybody was really appreciative. (Got the idea from Pinterest) It opened up conversations among the surrounding passengers about their kids or grandkids, etc. It was really nice. Everyone said thank you and even came up to us after the fight to say thanks again. A couple people said now was the time to travel because kids this age are pretty "easy", meaning they are wherever you put them, and they sleep a lot. I told them when we travel with him when he's a little older we'll also include a mini bottle of liquor in our gift bags. That was a popular idea. 

So while we were in Hawaii I actually had a pretty good time. I made sure to buy a fan at Costco on our way to the house to keep Vanson cool and boy am I glad I did. It was pretty hot and humid and I think it allowed him to sleep. While we were there I made sure to get his little feet in the ocean and our friends had a good time (despite traveling with people who had a little baby in tow), so I'd chalk that trip up to a success. 

Hawaiian Baptism

<3

So now that we're back I'm realizing that work is on my horizon. I go back to work soon and that makes me sad and happy at the same time. There's a lot of ladies I work with that have recently had children or who are in process of bearing them. I preface my next statement with: I have the utmost respect for those women, and I love them very much, like sisters I'd say. So it's with that, that I say this: Those bitches drop their baby weight like it's no big thing. WTF is up with that?! Why is mine hanging on, white knuckled, clinging to areas on my body turning it horribly squishy. (sigh) Back fat. Whatever, it's only been 7 weeks. I think what I'm most bothered by is that I have nothing cute to wear. I'm over wearing my maternity crap. I wanna wear normal clothes again... and look cute! I don't wanna stuff myself back into my old pants (I can't anyway). Fall is my favorite time of year for clothes! So many options! I should stop complaining... this just means I get to shop! Hooray! ... Just in a different section.. 

Oh well. I have a pretty stinkin' cute baby boy to show for all this back fat.

See? 

First motherhood struggle

Man has it been a roller coaster of his first three weeks of life! Learning the rhythm of motherhood has been hard, but already SO amazing.

blows my mind that I made him. 

WHOA.

Some of you may already know that we have experienced weight problems already... 

not this kind...

more like this kind...

My poor baby lost some weight after birth, which I hear is normal up to 10%, however, he lost 11%. He was born at 7lbs 13oz and dropped to 6lbs 13oz. For 2 weeks after he couldn't get past 7lbs and started dropping again. I was seeing our family practice doc and an independent lactation consultant and they were both concerned. Aside from him screaming a lot and not having the little baby rolls that I love so much this is how I knew to be concerned as well. If the medical side AND and the tree-huggin' side of things are BOTH concerned, I'm on alert. 

My first feeling of failure as a mom. Sweet.

So after watching the scales and hearing his frantic crying and knowing deep down that cry meant hunger, my doc and I decided to supplement him AFTER breast feeding with formula. (GASP!) I know, wow, getting through the feeling that I'm less of a woman / less of a mommy has been a struggle. Hearing peoples' opinions and advice has been helpful for the most part, and a little surprising...  I've also been taking supplements to increase milk production... 

So I go from this...

to this...

Did you guys know there is such thing as Donor Breast Milk? While I consider myself open to ideas and whatnot, I just can't go there. I have a hard time thinking of putting someone else's bio hazard into Vanson. I don't mean that as a derogatory statement, I would just rather give him formula as a supplement that way I know exactly what he's getting. 

And I'm happy to report it's working!! Last Wednesday his weight was 6lbs 13oz. We started supplementing right away. 

Daddy gave him his first supplement

Man, it was like meeting a new baby afterward! His little tummy was full, he wasn't screaming, he started cooing and smiling and I started to relax. 

YAY!

We went in for another weigh-in on Friday and I was really crossing my fingers for a gain of at least a half ounce or an ounce... nope. 7lbs 2oz!!! 5 OUNCES!

Let the rolls commence!

After consulting with the amazing women I work with, I've discovered this "problem" is quite common and loads of women must supplement, and some women don't breastfeed at all. I can't even begin to tell you guys, or those wonderful women how much it meant to me to have that shared with me. These women I look up to have also either had to do this as well or, if they didn't, are not judging me or making me feel like less of a woman or less of a mother. I don't know what I would do without those women. I also asked my mom about it, and turns out, I was strictly formula fed because my brother (who is 3 years older than me) had the same issue as Vanson and my mom didn't want me to have that experience, so I went straight to formula after the all-important colostrum. After asking my mom about it she kept saying, "It doesn't mean I don't love you, or didn't love you then!" I know that, but that also shows me the great debate in formula vs. breast milk carries a life-long stigma. I'm going to try my damnedest to embrace it, be proud of it and not be ashamed. If my son is getting what he needs and thriving, then spare me the low whispers and silent judgement. 

He's finally here!!!

Well well well...

Let me tell you up front, this post will be a long one. Not only that, but there will be 2 pictures here that have blood... don't worry, my vagina is NOT on display, but like I said, 2 photos contain blood and are a little graphic.

So... sit back, relax, grab a snack or a drink or whatever will help you pass the time because this fatty blog entry will be in chapters, much like a Quentin Tarantino flick. Oh, maybe turn on some sweet 70's music too.

Chapter 1: My labor of love and the subsequent pay off.

Let me take you back in time... Back to the night of August 28th. That night, sleeping was really a no-go. I was up most of the night in pain and up to the bathroom every 2 hours. I knew I was contracting, but they only felt slightly stronger than the previous fake ones. I didn't tell Kris I had a horrible night because he planned on heading north to work on the new house and I knew it had to get done. Stupid me though, during the morning I was really regretting that decision because it didn't take long and I was contracting every 20 minutes. I managed to leave my house and grab lunch with a friend and her daughter, meanwhile re-setting my timer every contraction. It was actually hard to get out of my car and walk into the restaurant. When Hong saw me struggling to even make it in the door her greeting was, "Are you sure you should be here?" We had lunch from like 1pm till 3pm and I was still holding strong at every 20 minutes. I think I progressed to every 10 minutes around 6 or 7 and the contractions became so strong I had to get down on the floor. That's when both Kris and I knew we'd be going to the hospital at some point that night. I kept going into the bathroom to try to poop because one of my biggest fears was that I would end up pooping during birth. Gross. Like the playdough meat grinder thingy....

Except not like that because I don't have worms. 

So while I'm struggling in the bathroom Kris looks up on the 'net when we should go into the hospital. Apparently, there's a 5:1:1 rule, contracting every 5 minutes lasting 1 minute, for 1 hour. Well, we were sitting at about every 7 minutes at about 8:00-8:30, so we held out. At around 9pm I progressed to every 3-4 minutes and the most intense pain I've ever felt. At one point I was on the floor hanging onto Kris' hips because the pain was pretty intense and that's when I felt the urge to push... 

That's when Kris was like, "We should probably just go." 

So we left at around 9:30. We got there pretty quickly because we were still at our house in Portland and man was I grateful because sitting was not ideal in those moments.

We got up to Labor and Delivery and they were Johnny-on-the-spot with getting us settled in. All my dignity was immediately out the door. I mean, I've heard people say you end up not caring who sees what and so on, but I still had those little worries like, I don't want anyone to see me poo on the table, and I wanted my toenails painted, etc. So stupid. I will have you know though, I did look pretty cute going in, one of the nurses commented on how cute the flower was in my hair. Didn't last long though, that thing came out and the hair came down as soon as I was in that bed. Also, when we arrived I was already dilated to 6cm. They like women to get to 10cm before pushing, so I think we did a good job laboring at home for the most part. 

So, as soon as Kris and I got in the room the nurse hands me this little specimen cup and tells me to pee in it. Seriously lady?! Needless to say I mostly just peed all over my hand. Doctors came in and opened my chart and were like, "So, we see you want to do natural..." I think I may have cut them off, "Things have changed! An epidural would be good!" I guess getting an epidural requires a running IV. They wanna throw some LR in first, then NS. Well, I was a pin cushion briefly. My nurse tried twice and couldn't do it. (how you miss these veins, I don't know, A) I'm transparent B) you could drive a bus through these veins!) Anyway, the 3rd time worked well, different nurse, and I got my epidural in around midnight thirty. It started working around 1:30 or so, but I did get some Fentanyl in the meantime, and let me tell you, that stuff is AWESOME. 

Some time passed, I wanna say it was around 3 or 3:30 that they decided they wanted to break my water. Another birth plan choice I wanted was to break my water on my own, if at all. The docs decided they wanted to get going because during contractions his heart rate would fall to around 80. I felt pressured because I know my doc is a great one, but I also really wanted to do that on my own. They got out their little hook thingy that looks like a darning needle, and I was like, "fine" -I mean, when they tell you your baby is struggling AT ALL of course you wanna make sure they transition ok and at that point I think any woman would do anything to make sure her little babe is ok. Lo and behold, as I sat up my water broke like someone just opened a champagne bottle! -All over my nurse! It made a pop and gushing noise and everything! I was SO proud! Put your stupid hook away! We're progressing ON OUR OWN. One thing I didn't realize, after your water breaks, epidural or not, contractions get harder again. 

So, fast forward to about 4 and the docs check me, I'm at 10cm! I didn't feel like I had to push yet so they put a monitor on his little head because the outside monitors on my belly were throwing out weird readings they didn't know if they could trust. I felt the urge to push again starting at 4:20. I pushed as hard as I could, every time, not making any noise. 28 minutes later, my handsome little man came into this world and was laid on my chest a lifeless, breathless lump of purple, bloody mess. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty fucking traumatic. I held him and I remember looking at Kris, and crying and repeating, "He's not crying, why isn't he crying?!" I've never wanted so badly to hear a baby cry. My inner alarm was going off in full force. 

The doctors swept him up and told Kris "Cut the cord!" -It was not in his plan to cut it, but he knew something was wrong and did it so they could take him and get to work. They took his little lifeless body off of me and rushed him to the other side of the room and I didn't even notice the baby code team had flooded the room. I was crying because my baby wasn't, and I kept staring at Kris because I honestly felt looking at him was the only thing I had to hang onto. If I didn't have Kris in that moment I would've been screaming. He kept repeating, "He's fine, he's fine, they're doing their thing, he's going to be fine." He kept it together to keep me together. I've never felt so much love for my husband, honestly, just writing about that horrifying few minutes makes me tear back up. Needless to say, those few minutes felt like a lifetime. Then I heard it. His cries. Geez, what's happened to me. I'm crying now just recalling that most beautiful moment when I heard my son take his first real breaths. I felt as though new life was breathed into myself as well and I cried harder out of relief. As soon as he was stable they gave him back to me and we got our precious skin on skin time and he went to the breast right away. I could tell Kris was relieved, and so proud. He was practically glowing and it made me fall in love with my family yet again. 

A human came out of me, still blows my mind.

Proud new Daddy

So then began the repairs... as Van got to begin bonding with Kris and me the docs got out their needle and thread and began the precarious work of putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. Wanna guess how long that took? Go ahead, guess. About an hour and a half! I thought maybe they were making Van a new baby blanket!

Ta Da!

At least they kept the epidural on during the craft session. I guess I pushed so hard and he came out so fast I ripped in 3 places. Two stage 1's and a stage 3. Yikes! I guess during the ordeal I developed a big hematoma on my vaginal wall, so before getting all done "down there" they consulted with another doctor to come take a look-see to see if I would have to go to the OR to drain the hematoma. They decided no, and finished sewing me up, took the gauze out and turned off the epidural. Van was then whisked off to get monitored for a couple more hours in the NICU and I went to Mother/Baby. 

We stayed in the hospital for 2 nights because of my ripped up vagina. Vanson did awesome with his little shots, and he seemed to do well latching on. We had an uneventful hospital recovery. We were allowed to leave on that Saturday morning. It was weird to leave, part of me was scared. I can relate to patient's getting used to being watched and monitored. 

We moved our household the next day.

Chapter 2: Post hospital transition to new parenthood and new house in a new state... 

Needless to say, moving was STRESSFUL. Kris has really been outdoing himself with how hard he's been working to make this new house a home. His family did a LOT as well to make this house as move-in ready as possible. They were up here painting their asses off, cleaning, they helped us move and helped us un-pack and set up. Honestly, without them my life would be HELL right now. 

On moving day Vanson went without eating for about 9 hours and scared the living shit out of me. I feel stupid about it, because I felt like I didn't really know how to be aggressive with feeding him. I thought maybe he was stressed because it was a crazy day. It was probably a combination of both my stress and his. At our first doc appointment that Tuesday I was put in touch with a lactation consultant because Vanson lost almost a pound. It made me feel like a failure as a mother, already. When Bryna came out and evaluated Vanson and myself she felt he may need an ENT doctor for his mouth. She put me in touch with a pediatric ENT and we saw him that Friday. Turns out Vanson was tongue tied and lip tied. The tissue under his tongue was holding his tongue down, and he had some tissue under his upper lip that stretched all the way around his gums that prevented his upper lip form flipping up. We had it lasered and Vanson seems to be healing quite well. He still hasn't gained his birth weight back but we're working on it with every 2 hour feedings. I think he's making some progress based on his diaper wreckage and look forward to our follow up appointment tomorrow. 

The day before I got his mouth taken care of he also got circumcised. My poor baby just got hammered on one day after another. Sheesh. My little trooper. Lucky for me he loves him some Tylenol. Maybe it's the taste? Because it's different than breast milk? Maybe it's because it's some volume without him having to work so hard to get it? Whatever it is, he loves that stuff. 

The bleeding after birth is no joke as well. Man, I have heard people say you bleed, and you can't get anything done because babies constantly need you, oh, and no sleep. I heard all that and was like, "Ok, sounds tough." NO. It's NO JOKE. It's serious. The bleeding and the pain "down there" have been AWFUL. And those doctors mean business when they say no lifting. I definitely bleed more when I've tried doing strenuous things like move heavy boxes or move furniture. I learned and am not doing that stuff anymore. 

**GRAPHIC IMAGES AHEAD**

Especially since this thing came out of me...

Um...

I sort of thought this thing was going to punch me in the face and then slink off somewhere and accost someone else, maybe rob a bank, maybe go back into the sea...

I took those photos to show my doctor because I knew when I said, "I think I passed a clot with some tissue." they'd probably be like, "Yeah, yeah, we've heard that before... you're fine." So I showed them and watched their eyes get all big and then ask questions like, "Have you been light-headed, dizzy?" The doctors didn't have an explanation, but the lactation consultant thought it was part of the placenta. Doesn't part of that look like umbilical cord? Crazy. I'm glad it's out. I'm glad my body got it out and it didn't hold onto it and make me sick. 

So, as time has gone on, I feel like I'm getting the hang of this a little bit. I can't even fathom going back to work yet. I can't even think about that. Lucky for me I have some time off for awhile. The learning curve is steep. 

I tell ya, there is NOTHING like this whole experience so far. This kid could be screaming his little head off (he does this high pitched thing that is SO adorable) and I just kiss his little face. I am totally taken with how amazing he is. We spent a few hours capturing all of his adorableness the other day and  I can't stop looking at them. He definitely rules my world. I remember when I used to be go, go go, worried about how I looked, concerned with Happy Hour menus and whats going on elsewhere, but not anymore, and you know what? I don't mind. As long as my family is good, I'm good. I could easily turn into a hermit just to get to hang out with my handsome men. I don't want to miss a moment of his life. 

My little love bug

41 and feeling (gasp!) just fine!

So here I sit... taking a break from doing some house work and being 41 weeks pregnant today! ... Or so they say... I had my first "Fetal Monitoring" appointment today and everything looked great according to the tech Mary Lou.

I got to hear his little heart beat for 30 minutes

After hearing his heart beat and watching the squiggly lines on the monitor (I was encouraged that was a good sign) we got to do a bed-side ultrasound. Just a little portable one. Nothing really stood out to me on the screen except for his little spine and his foot. Which looked giant, it certainly FEELS giant. 

Warm, goopy caterpillar goodness

Apparently the ultrasound portion is to measure the amniotic fluid that he's floating around in. She also was able to check out the 'ol placenta and make sure it is still nice and juicy and hasn't shriveled up into a wrinkly-old-dried-out-dusty-prune... 

chock full of nutrients!

Turns out, my 41 week old placenta is nice and juicy! Fully effective and showing no signs of crapping out just yet! 

Mmmmmm! Moist!

During the appointment Mary Lou was telling me an indication for induction of birth would be if the fluid around him was at 5cm or less. Turns out Vanson has 10 cm of fluid to free-float around in still! Yay for staying hydrated! It makes me feel good that the environment I'm providing to my son is so healthy and good for him, gives me a sense of accomplishment that my 32 year old body can do it. When I tell people I'm 32 and a first time mom I usually get the wide-eyed, "You-must-be-high-risk-oh-my-God-shouldn't-you-be-on-bed-rest" look... Well, he's in great shape and I may not be in gladiator condition at the moment, but damnit, I wasn't in bad shape to start... In fact, here is a side by side for comparison: 

First appointment in December, most recent appointment last week.

Granted, I have some work to do after he makes his way out, but like I said, I'm really encouraged that the environment my body has been able to provide him is tip-top. Makes me care less about the swollen ankles, chest pain, and the fact that I have to roll on my side and lift myself up while wheezing and sticking my tongue out like a slob to even make a position change. Did I mention I've actually ripped underwear trying to get them on these days? TMI? 

So I guess the plan is ANOTHER doctor appointment tomorrow where I'm guessing they'll ask if I want them to check me. No thanks. I'm also assuming they'll start talking about possible induction stuff. Then ANOTHER monitoring appointment on Thursday if he hasn't made his way toward the light by then. Meanwhile, continuing to get our new house ready and start moving in (HOORAY!) and getting our current house emptied. 

In the meantime, I'm reassured that he's in great shape and I have a sneaking suspicion he'll make his way as soon as he's ready... I mean, why else would I wake up in the morning with a little bit of colostrum leaking out? 

I'm ok in here Mom!