Test results are in

I seem to have come to the end of the testing possibilities for what it is that ails me. The conclusion: pregnancy. Although my heart rate is getting up to 180 bpm (while resting!), I'm still suffering major dizzy spells, and the nausea has no end in sight, everything else is checking out just fine. So the only conclusion is that my body is just taking the pregnancy really really hard. Needless to say, I don't think I'm doing this again!

I saw my family doctor today, and she was overjoyed to hear that my parents arrive in town tomorrow, and will be staying with us for about 4 weeks after the baby comes. She was really concerned about how I would manage once the baby arrives. I was a little surprised to hear that - I thought all my problems would be solved once this baby came out. But apparently even the normal amount of blood loss during delivery will likely set me back a good deal, and that's if everything is normal. She also echoed my own concerns about being able to handle labour and delivery. I am not a 'one hour, one push and the baby is here' person. I am an '8 hours of hard labour followed by two hours of pushing' person. Oh, and I'm also an 'epidurals don't seem to take' person. The last two labours were difficult, and I was nowhere near as sick as I am now. My doctor assured me that they would monitor me the whole time and would step in as soon as they saw either myself ro the baby in distress. Once again, I am so grateful for modern medicene.

So the only thing left is to actually go into labour! Let's get this thing started. My bag is packed, baby clothes washed, everything is in place. So, any day now, any day...

I've done this before...really...

I'm now 36 1/2 weeks, and I forgot to pre-register at the hospital.

I've done this before...twice. You'd think I'd have the hang of things by now. I know a mother's memory of birth is somewhat wiped after the experience (so that she'll do it again), but somehow I seem to have forgotten everything to do with pregnancy! I've given more than a few blank stares to my OB when he asks a question I should know the answer to. I've blown tests that they assume I know how to do. I actually have been checking up on the Ask Dr. Sears website about the different stages of pregnancy, and how to recognize labour. And I forgot to register at the hospital. I called this morning, but it's too late now (they can't fit me in before I will likely deliver). It's not a big deal - for some reason there's still always paperwork to fill out when you arrive, keeled over in pain and in the midst of contractions. I just can't believe I forgot yet another thing.

I think this solidifies my argument, however, that until you're on your 5th or 6th kid, please do not consider yourself an expert in pregnancy and childbirth. Everyone's experiences are different, and this whole memory loss thing makes it unlikely much of what you say will be relevant to me or that you even recall it correctly.

Hard days, good days

Sometimes the hard days and good days are all wrapped up in one, oscillating from one to the other by the minute.

This morning I had to carry Caleb stretched out across my chest through Zellers while he had a crying fit. He didn't want to follow me through the store, and I was getting a little dizzy and needed to go. I then strapped him into a cart, where he proceeded to scream and cry until I got him to the car.

Then, for lunch, I made him crackers, cheese and frozen mixed vegetables. He ate the whole plate, then asked for more vegetables. Yes, my two-year-old asked for vegetables. And then he told me that "after vegetables, time for nap." Ah, there are some fair moments to life after all.

The waiting game

This period of waiting during my pregnancy is a curious one this time around. With Colin, his early arrival was so completely unexpected that I didn't have time to wait in anticipation. With Caleb, I was wrung with suspense beginning at 38 weeks, wondering if each pain I felt might be the onset of labour. With this pregnancy, I have an eerie sense of calm, behind which lies the knowledge that labour really could begin at any moment - in the next five minutes, or in the next 4 weeks. It is strange to know that there is little that precipitates the big event. One minute I will just be pregnant, and the next I will be on a quick journey toward my third baby. And everything will change in a matter of a day or two.

I feel this one will come early, but perhaps that is just wishful longing. Maybe I am bound to go all the way to my due date, or even past (although I certainly hope it will not string out that long!) I worry a little about the actual labour. My labour and delivery history is a long, drawn out, and painful one. I wonder, in my weakened physical state, if I will have the same strength I had for the last two. I see images of myself lying in exhaustion, overcome by the pain and anguish, much more silent than before. I fear a pale complexion dampened with small beads of sweat. I rejoice in the apparent strength of the baby, but tremble slightly at my own disappearing strength. I am grateful for the wonders of modern medicene that will ensure all goes as it should, for I need this assurance more than anything right now.

And so, I wait. I have more days of exhaustion than energy lately. A day of rest doesn't seem to restore to me what it used to. Sometimes two or three days go by before I can muster the strength to do what I need to. A day full of activity is sure to set me to bed. And yet, there is an end in sight...

Happy Birthday Colin

Today my big/little boy turns four! Perhaps because he is in school now, or perhaps it's just the number itself, but four years old suddenly doesn't seem like my little boy anymore. What a wonderful joy he is in my life. He has an insatiable sense of wonder and curiosity, a touch of seriousness and a deep compassion for family, friends, and all those around him. I am amazed to watch this little soul grow and develop before my very eyes.

Happy birthday, Colin.

Colinism

Over the past month or so, Colin has developed a soft spot for me. Not that he hasn't always shown great love towards myself and other family members, but he's been very independent since the day he was born. He often stops to tell me that I'm beautiful, or that my hair is very pretty, or that I look beautiful. Then there are times, once every few days, where he approaches me, takes my hand, gazes into my eyes, then looks down to kiss my hand before gazing back up into my eyes. The gesture is very tender and slow, as though it is taking place outside the realm of time. The past few days he has also started to put his hand to my cheek and smile at me, caressing my cheek in a moment of pause, much the same way I do to him. I'm not sure if it's a stage, or perhaps related to our impending new arrival, or because he has started school, or simply a facet of his personality opening itself to us. Whatever it is, they are wonderful moments shared between mother and son. I hope they never end.

When frustration builds...

I never like how I feel when frustration is boiling up inside. I have this acute awareness of myself when I am in a bad mood. Instead of just grumbling and moping and being generally unpleasant and not realizing it, it's like a part of myself is floating above me, watching me sulk in my grumpiness. So I can never even enjoy a bad mood, because I'm always aware of what a grinch I'm being to those around me, and feel guilty about my attitude.

Yesterday I had one of those afternoons. I got a call from the Internists' office requesting more tests (blood work). She asked me to swing by to pick up the requisition form, and then I could get the blood work done in the lab in their building. Perfect. I told her that I pick up Colin just before 3pm, and then I would be by.

Well, she neglected to remind me on the phone that their lab closes at 3pm. So after bundling the kids in the car and driving over, we arrived at 3:05 pm, and the lab was already closed. I knocked on the door hoping for a sympathetic lab technician who might take pity on a pregnant woman with two small kids in tow - no such luck.

The other lab in town is on the way home, so although I wasn't looking forward to bundling children in and out of the car again, I really just wanted to get the tests done. So we drove to the other lab. Out we all get, up to the door, only to find out that lab had been moved. Frustration mounting. Bundle the kids back into the car, drive to the new location.

Get the kids out. Walk up to the lab. Find another sign: lab has moved again. Now you can see the smoke pouring out of my ears. I'm exhausted from lifting the boys in and out of the car. They are peppering me with questions about why the lab was closed or why it was moved, or why it was moved again. This time, the lab was moved across the mall parking lot, and as I don't feel like doing the whole carseat buckling again, I scoop Caleb up in my arms, hold Colin close, and dart across the roads and parking lots to the lab location. I know that if this last step falls through, I think I will simply collapse on the spot in frustration.

As I approach the lab, there is a sign on the door. It's the lab hours. I grumble aloud that it had better be open. Wonder of wonders...it is. And there is no one waiting there, which means we can go right in. Thankfully, the boys behave and stand obediently against the wall why I have my blood drawn. The kind nurse offers them stickers, which makes their whole afternoon adventure worthwhile. I'm just glad to have the lab work completed. The Internist already scheduled a follow-up appointment next week, which worried me a little. Usually they say "we'll call you if we find something wrong." To pre-schedule an appointment likely means they either expect to find something wrong, or, if they don't, know already they will need to do more tests.

Unfortunately, the whole afternoon put me in a funk. My stomach was already not cooperating, I had had two seperate medical appointments earlier in the day, I hadn't slept or napped well, and even though it was Monday (cleaning day), I was too exhausted to do any of it, which means it will likely go another week before I try again. The only load of laundry I did was towels, the easiest but also least important load to do.

Have I mentioned lately that I'm ready for this baby to come...any time now...really...I'm ready...let's just do this...please...