Uncommon Julia

Even Google Thought So!

The other day I was looking through my stats on flickr when I found this bit of disturbing news:

If you do a google photo search for "twins in belly", my belly shot comes up on the second page!  TWINS?!  That just ain't right.

Why I Stopped Going Out in a Bikini

I told you before I left for the hospital I'd share some truthful belly shots.  Well, I didn't end up having time.  But since then, I've adjusted the brightness (my camera's flash had a sync issue) and, well, you can't say I didn't warn you.

I'm too embarrassed to actually publish the photos here.  But you can check them out on flickr.  Among the best are my profile, which so often scared passersby; my stretch marks, which looked far worse in adequate lights; and my veins, which were so dark they managed to show up despite the flash issue.  And let us not forget my expression of bemusement at having to get up at 3:00 am to give birth.

Let it never be said that my vanity trumped my journalistic spirit of honesty.

Olivia

When I was a teenager, my mother and I would attend a church luncheon for Mother's Day.  And at the luncheon, after a prayer, they would start things off by singing a song, "I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry"*.  And my mother would cry.  And I would roll my eyes in that teen-aged way that simultaneously said, "Mom, stop embarrassing me!" and "You're a giant goober."  And then I would cry, because I always do when my mom does and because really, even as a teenage girl, the song got to me.

Last Wednesday, around 7:00 in the morning as I lay on the operating table, numb as a sofa from the ribs down and exposed as a fish to all the world, I felt so removed from everything that was going on.  I was in clinical mode - one which I'm sure a few of you are familiar with.  It's a coping mechanism whereby you render everything into facts.  Analog.  Simple yes or no answers that keep emotion at a distance and try to make the whole situation - good or bad - manageable.  I lay there talking calmly with the anesthesiologist about what I did or didn't feel, analyzing the sound of my increasing and decreasing heart rate, jokingly placing bets with my doctor about Caroline's size (she won, by the way, nailing it to the ounce), and even calmly reflecting on how much more "with it" I felt this time compared to Hannah's birth.  But I didn't feel emotional.

Not until Caroline Olivia drew her first breath and screamed out to the world, myself included, that she was here.  In that moment I felt all of the emotion on the moment wash over me and I began to cry.  And then I laughed at myself for feeling caught so off guard by the joy.  And then I cried some more.  And when they held her over the drape for the first time, I looked at her messy, screaming face and felt overwhelmed by relief and pure, unadulterated love.  I thought immediately of that song and of my mother's reaction.

And then, with her father's classic sense of comic timing, she dripped a glob of bloody, mucousy eew on my lips.  I tried to push it off using my lips, as my hands were otherwise occupied with gadgets and monitors and IVs, but it didn't work.  "Get it off!" I scream-muttered to Todd.  He laughed and wiped away the stuff on my lips but inadvertently left some on my chin.  I had to ask the anesthesiologist to get it off later.

* To be fair, I don't recall the "where demons dwell" part.  My church may have cut that part out or I just have fuzzy memories.

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I'll write a more in-depth birth story later, but suffice it to say it was wonderful.  I have a big, healthy baby girl and I have my uterus.  I have a great husband, and family and friends who filled our room every moment we allowed them.

It's been a week, so I already have some product recommendations, new nursing tips, and funny-yet-horrifying poop stories (mine, not hers) to share with you.

Caroline is everything I remember loving about an infant, and nothing I remember hating (namely the reflux).  And Hannah is acting out no more that can be expected.  Plus, she loves her Baby Sister with an intensity I honestly did not expect. Her minor outbursts are aimed solely at me and Todd, never at Caroline.

For now, I'll have to settle for sharing a few pictures and I'll shave the stories for future posts.

Many, many more on my flickr account.

See You on the Flip Side

We leave for the hospital in 10 minutes.  They want us there at 4:00 am.

Say some prayers or send some good thoughts.  My mom will post updates.  And I have documented the belly... but the posting will have to wait until we're back!

A Few Distractions to Keep Us Occupied (Now with 100% More Quotes and Parentheses)

I'm still hanging in here.  And it appears I'll actually make it to D-Day, Wednesday morning.  We did have a fun visit to L&D Sunday night (the very day I bragged about avoiding such a trip to Olivia), where the nurses said things like "Wow!  Look at her move!" and eventually decided that what I was suffering through was a combination of "real" contractions, "irritability" (which is just as painful as the contractions, but more erratic and longer-lasting!), and a baby with exclamation inducing movement and activity.  It took them a while to decipher what was what on the monitor strip, but eventually things calmed down enough for me to go home.  None of it changed my cervix - which makes me think that if left to my own devices (read vaginal delivery) I'd be one of those ladies who labors intensely for 48 hours with no change in dilation.

My parents arrive today.  In a matter of hours, actually.  And I'll breathe a big sigh of relief then because worrying about Hannah will be one less thing on my plate.

I have a bag roughly packed (by the way, if you're looking for a good hospital packing list, I recommend this one), though I'm waiting until the last minute for some items.

As we have less than 48 hours to go, I thought I'd share some questions with you as a means of distraction.  Also, because I'm too lazy to find these things out for myself:

1. Those of you who've experienced the joy of big, fatty stretch marks (as opposed to the graceful, lacy sort I've seen on my friends), have you ever had itchy bite-like things in the middle of them?  My belly looks like a war-torn battlefield as of late and over the past week or so it looks (and feels) as if a mosquito has carefully bitten me right in the middle of each stretch mark.  What's up with that?  I'm using cortisone cream to make the itch stop... well, lessen.  But other than that, I'm guessing delivery is the only real solution.

And yes, if you're wondering, I'm planning on posting a very real, very unflattering picture of said belly before we depart for the hospital.  And also a few flattering ones to keep my dignity intact um, well I guess I gave that up a while back.

2.  Hannah has been doing this weird blinking thing over the past month or so.  Her eyes are not irritated and we haven't discerned any vision difficulties, so I'm not too worried.  Some times it looks intentional, and sometimes not.  Perhaps a tic?  Anyone else seen this?

3.  Many of you have asked about Hannah's thoughts on impending sisterhood (that's how she phrases it, anyway).  Really, it probably deserves a post of it's own, but as I'm too lazy, this will do.

In sum, she's excited.  Or at least she thinks she's excited.  I'm sure nothing will prepare her for the reality of a post-Baby-Sister world, but she's as happy as one could expect a two-and-a-half-year-old to be.  She hypothesizes all day long about "when Baby Sister born..."  A phrase that ends in a myriad of ways, some more realistic than others:

"she see all her presents and she gonna LOVE 'em!"

"she gonna play kick ball wid me."

"she gonna eat milk." (me: "Where will she get milk?" her: "From Mommy." me: "That's right!" her: "And she eat Cheez-its!" me: "Um...")

I basically spend my time trying to engage her in the idea of being a big sister while minimizing her expectations of what Baby Sister will really be able to do when she's here.

4.  Did you see that Baby Sister's glider came in and I put some new pictures of the nursery on my flickr page?  The glider is slightly off in color, but I think we'll make it work just fine.

5.  Now is your last chance to ask questions, give random advice on the latest-greatest baby things, or what to pack in my bag... so have at it!

The Big Question **Clarified**

Rather than bore you with the minutia of preparing for Wednesday's delivery (of which there are many, and all of them are complete bullshit - seriously, our insurance system is so royally effed up), or the myriad physical indications that I may at least get to flirt with labor before the c-section (see also searches on "mucous plug"), I thought I'd pose the big question.

No, not "Will I go into labor before Wednesday?".  Not "Will I keep my uterus?"  Not even "Will those stretch marks finally cross over onto my tatoo?"

If I could shake that big cosmic Magic 8 Ball in the sky, I'd ask it how it feels to love two people as much as this one.

But seeing as how the Magic 8 Ball isn't all that definitive or experienced, I thought I'd ask you all instead.

__________________________________________

To be clear, I'm not worried at all that I won't love Baby Sister as much.  I'm not even worried about how that will happen.  I was just wondering how that feels, because it must be overwhelming.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhh

After a truly harrowing week of heinous sleep deprivation and discomfort, I took myself in for an internal check yesterday.  I was convinced that I'd be going into labor at any moment, and frankly, the mental stress was getting to me.  In a big way.

Thankfully, I have an awesome doctor's office who deals with panic-stricken, hormonally-overwrought, sleep-deprived, bitchy women as if it's a daily occurrence (because, most likely, it is).  I have not changed much, if at all, from Thursday.  Still just over a centimeter dilated and perhaps 40-50% effaced.  With that in mind, they gave me a prescription for Ambien and sent me home for some good rest.

And, oh, sweet Jesus, what a difference one normal night of sleep makes.  I feel one hundred percent better.  I'm not edgy.  I've smiled a few times!  I got up with Hannah this morning without feeling put upon.  I can even walk better.

Now, nine days doesn't seem so insurmountable.  At, if it means I'll have a nice fat baby with mature lungs, I'll put up with whatever those nine days bring.

So there.  Mental health check accomplished, I'm off to put Hannah down for a nap, and perhaps take one myself.

[Insert Snappy Title Here.]

At my appointment yesterday I was a "loose" 1 cm dilated and 25% effaced. 

To be completely honest, I don't know what to wish for at this point.  A huge part of me wants this baby to come earlier than August 1st.  Nearly all of that is based sheerly on my discomfort and my desire to have Baby Sister in my arms instead of my body.  I keep dreaming that all of these contractions and dreadful pummeling sessions mean she's nearly ready to come, that her lungs are nicely matured and that she'll do this on her own time frame.

Another part of me, though, recognizes the benefits of making it to our planned deadline.  Namely, my OB will be back from her out-of-the-country vacation and all hands will be on deck.  Which translates to better odds of me keeping my uterus and Baby Sister being fully ready to breathe on her own.

I feel like Cybil.  Or like Donald Duck with a little angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.  Except in this case, neither option is inherently good or bad.

Either way, it's out of my hands.  And I'm trying to make that my mantra.  That, plus two Benadryl each night almost allow me to sleep.  Almost.

"Like Jazzercize... but for the vagina!"

Wow!  You people really love a good name debate!  I'm duly taking into consideration all your suggestions.  I don't think we'll decide until we've got her in our arms, and then we'll let you know.

My diaper shower on Saturday was a ton of fun.  It was a very casual evening affair with yummy food and deserts.  I received over 700 diapers and a ton of cute little baby outfits (as if she needed them!).  We chit-chatted and people rubbed my belly; but the best part of the evening was the baby-themed pictionary.

I know - it sounds obnoxious - but trust me, it was fun.  Take, for instance, when my neighbor had the good fortune of drawing the word "kegels".  She gamely laughed before handing the card to the other team (we did "all play" for the whole game) and then settled in to work her magic.

She drew a stick figure sitting spread-eagle.  Then she added prominent lips to the stick figure's crotch.

"Lips!"
"Vagina!"
"Vulva!" we shouted.

She nodded, then sighed and laughed.  She added a headband to the stick-figures head.  We frowned for a second.

"Doctor?"
"Spelunker?"
"Jazzercise?!" I shouted, thinking I couldn't be further off base.

But she nodded furiously.

"Working out?"
"Exercise?"

More furious nodding, then she drew an arrow from the headband down to the lips.

"Oooh! Oooh! I know - exercise for the cooch!  Uh, DAMN! What's that word?!"

Then I heard it coming from the other team: "KEGELS!!!"

Dammit.  Chalk another one up to pregnancy brain.

Blogging 101: When Low on Content, Use Pictures

Here's a look at Hannah's first baking project.  Not bad for a two-and-a-half-year-old, eh?!

It's a cherry pie made from scratch.  Truly scratch, as in pitted the cherries and made the crust.  Okay, so maybe Hannah didn't do every step.  But still.  The only hint a toddler was involved is the off-center top crust and a lack of scalloped edges.  But trust me when I say it was deeeelicious.

And here are the results of all my nesting efforts.  Well, a few highlights, anyway.  Check out the flickr album for more.