One Of Those Nights

Pancakes for dinner.

Cohen playing quietly on the floor while Brett, passed out and fast asleep, sits on the couch and Kembry plays in the bath tub.

I love low-stress, low-key, low-activity evenings. 

I know it will come to an end, sooner than later.  Kembry will get sick of the bath, run around naked and wet.  Cohen will then decide HE wanted to take a bath.  Why didn't HE get to take a bath?  Despite the fact I begged him to TAKE A BATH!  Haha.

Then I'll have to poke Brett in the eye to get him to get the kids ready for bed...almost as much work to get him to do it as it would be to do it myself.  Luckily, I can bug him from the couch, whereas if I had to put them to bed, I'd have to move.

Poking it'll be.

So, until the peace and quiet ends, I will sit and bask.  Bask, bask, bask.

Kelly Down

Mid-August, Here I Come!

A "get your hopes up" kinda doctors appointment, sprinkled with a bit of anxiety over his math abilities.

It all started when he said, "Well, you're almost 31 weeks, so that's a good sign."

STOP!  Back up.  Rewind.  Let me check those diplomas again.  31 weeks?  Uh...nononononono, I don't think so.  You don't just rob a woman on bed rest with contractions of 3 weeks, you just DON'T.  Not unless you want to lose your life in a very, very painful and public way.  (And if the jury really is full of my "peers", then they would all be pregnant women on bed rest, and they would acquit me, easily.)

"Hey, Doc, due dates still Sept. 5th, right?"

"Yes."

That was good enough for me.  Though, I'm a bit concerned ol' lazy eye is losing his mind.

"But I don't think you'll make it to September."

Aww, he redeemed himself.

Next, he informed me he's going out of town mid-August for a week.  Last time he did this, my water broke with Kembry.  I'm ALLLLL for him going out of town.  I told him as much.

The appointment ended with those classical OBGYN hints that leave you loving/hating him.

"We'll check you  next week, and depending on where you are, I'll let my associates know if they'll be seeing you while I'm out of town."

Oh, they'd better be seeing me.  They. Had. Better.

The count down has never looked so promising.

Kelly Down

Can't a Girl Catch a Break?

Hmmm, interesting contractions.

Waves of nausea with each one.

Vomity contractions.  Yummy.  (Maybe it has something to do with the bag of M&M therapy I had earlier...nah.)

Yeah, this has not been the funnest pregnancy, but this sort of tops it!  Haha!

On the upside, you know how when the amniotic fluid starts to diminish, and you can feel actual body parts.  That's the head, that's a knee/elbow, that's definitely a little hand or foot.  I love it!

Kelly Down

Carseat Cover Madingy

I just finished the car seat cover thingy-madingy.

It was really easy.

So of course, I managed to screw it up.  But just a wee little bit.

In my defense, in case I make it to trial, it was a contraction from Hade's that came outta nowhere!

So I'm eating a bag of M&M's to make me feel better.  And it's helping.

Kelly Down

P.S. I'll post pictures when Brett gets home since I left the camera conveniently in the mini-van.  Erm, inconveniently.

Peak? Peek?

Soooo, I now realize I used the wrong "peak" to describe my peek-a-booby.

Unless it's the 80's and Madonna's reign of terror is in progress...then I guess "peak" and "booby" would go together...

But, I think Lady Gaga usurped that throne, and I'm not about to recognize her as my pop ruler.  I just can't do it.

Although that PapaRazzi song is pretty catchy...

So anyway, sorry about the horrid spelling.  I blame...my uterus.  It's always my uterus' fault.  All of it.  That, and chocolate.  Wait, that's to blame for my giant butt and flabby arms.  I better go now.

Kelly Down

Peak-A-Booby

 No, not mine.

Lucky for you, I made a cover for that very thing.

With great input by, that's right, my husband.  As he said, he did the best with a bad situation.  He went to the craft store, picked out the material, and totally revamped the pattern.  But only because I told him he could giggle when he asked for corset boning.

  I love this Peak-A-Booby!

(Please preform your own QVC Model Hand Gestures for the following...)

(P.S. I can't take good pictures...so...my uterus says, "Deal with it.  Humph.")

So, here we have the brown polka-dot side.  I originally wasn't going to have it reversible, but again, that husband of mine...

Here's the "other" side.  Don't you love the pockets?  I love the pockets!  Brett cut them out, pinned them, ironed them, and everything short of sewing them.  I had a very angry uterus at this point. 

I love the pockets because they're great for breast pads, burp rags and binky storage during nursing.  Here we have a burp rag ticking out of the pocket. 

This is a pathetic attempt to capture the corset boning.  Basically, it helps me see the baby and helps her not suffocate to death.  I figured, after all I've gone through to get her here, I might as well try not to kill her right away.

Crafty Kelly makes my uterus angry.  So, my amazing mother-in-law finished up the sewing for me when I couldn't sit straight anymore. 

Have I mentioned I can't take good pictures?

Have I mentioned I have an angry uterus?

Kelly
Down

P.S. Peak-A-Booby's and Hide-A-Hooters are super expensive.  I was shopping online and they're $40-$60 dollars, so if you want to know how we made this, let me know!  My husband (what, he's artistic is all) made sure to mark down the differences we made and basically created a whole new pattern.  Anyway, again, if you want a rough pattern of how it all came together, let me know!

P.P.S. I've lost my funny.  I mean, c'mon, it's a peak-a-booby, and nothin' funny comes to mind. I must be tired.  Get back to me in 2 months.

P.P.P.S.  If my uterus lets me, I will next attempt to make a car seat canopy/cover thingy-ma-dingy. 

Couuurage

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.' " -Mary Anne Radmacher

Mary Anne, you said it sister.

Kelly Down

Update

I had this fabulous gloat post about how I had played chicken with my uterus on Sunday, and won.

As I have a tendency to do, I spoke waaaay too soon.

After 3 days of hearty contractions, losing some mucus plug, and a serious craving for hospital food (not really) we made our way to L&D yesterday only to discover that those booger contractions are starting to change my cervix.

Poopy pants.

But we've managed to calm them down (again) and I'm behaving (for realsys this time, I swear) and we only have 3 1/2 more weeks of this!  I think I can behave for 3 1/2 weeks...I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Kelly Down (I swear!)

I love being pregnant.

I don't normally go on about this because I read all the time that women who say they love being pregnant are just lying, or insane, or both.

But I'm neither.  Well, I'm not lying.  Jury's still out about the insanity part.

The whole things rocks.

I love the trying (but of course).

I love the waiting to find out.  Especially when I already know.  Peeing on the stick: just a formality =)

I love those first few months feeling exhausted, because it means all my energy is going into actually creating a human being.  More specifically, another President of these United States.  We have big plans for our fetus's.  Fetii? 

I love when my pants start to get tight, but you can't tell anything yet.  But you know why your pants are tight.

I love, love, LOVE that first little wiggle.  I love, having been pregnant many times now, knowing for sure the difference between the joy of gas, and the joy of quickening.

I love those few months when the baby bump is cute and little, and the kicks you feel in it are all for you.

But my favorite part of the whole pregnancy experience is the kicking my kids and husband get to feel.  Being pregnant with older kids is so much fun.  They're so curious, so excited.  It renews pregnancy for me.  While it seems "old hat", I get to see it afresh through their sweet little eyes.  The way Kembry's face lights up when her baby sister kicks her, or the way Cohen quickly takes away his hand because he's so shocked that mommy's tummy is carrying an actual being.  Love it.

I love how, especially now, my belly leads everywhere I go.  I feel like I'm following her.  That explains why when I get somewhere, I have no idea why I'm there.  Haha.  Okay, maybe not.

I have a love/hate relationship with the forgetfulness, and the dumbening.  While it's annoying, and milk doesn't keep well in a cupboard, I think it's hilarious.  It makes me laugh at myself, which is one of my favorite things to do.  I give myself plenty of material.

Of course the best part, the most rewarding part, is that tell-tale gush of water (or slight leak) or that agonizing, gut wrenching pain.  Because then you know.  In only a few hours, if all goes well, you'll be holding that little seed turned giant watermelon in your arms instead of your round ligaments.  You don't think much about the pain, or the recovery, or the next 18 years.  You just think that those little hats sitting in the bassinet, and those tiny socks in the drawer, will be keeping little ears and little toes warm so soon.

Only 7 weeks! 

Kelly Down

Shake Shake Shake

My magical pills give me the shakes.

It makes nearly everything impossible, from typing to texting, crocheting to sewing (because I do so much sewing,) and holding a full cup of milk.  Big mess.

But, on the plus size, I can mix paint and make some hilarious pranks with full soda cans (think about it.)

Have a cool Saturday.

Kelly Down

Robbing Peter to Pay Paul?

Probably.

Third trimester insomnia, I'm sure, is no mystery to most who've taken on a gestating roll.  I mean, how does one get comfortable with a giant watermelon protruding where their flat, six packed stomach once rested?

Lately, I've been trying everything.  From warm baths and massages (I have the greatest husband in the world) to popping Unisom and Benadryl.  What?  I'm desperate.  And I'm tired.  And I'm grumpy. 

But seeing as how I'm on the beached-whale water diet, I still have to wake up 40 times a night to go pee.  As the night wares on, and my zzz's are lacking, I can start to tell I'm getting dehydrated and that my medicine is starting to wear off.  The contractions kick in.

Holy mother, did they ever kick in last night.  Starting low in my back and crawling up my exhausted uterus like the long fingers of death.  And can I tell you, a 32 week baby on the bake does not like contractions like that.  She was kicking, flipping, and head butting my cervix in an attempt to escape the squeezing taking place in her one bedroom apartment.

So I'm going to be taking another 10-1 nap today.  I hate doing this.  I feel like maybe this is the reason I can't sleep at night, because I'm napping during the day.  But even if I tried to avoid resting my head as soon as The Price Is Right ends, I can't.  I find myself dozing in a sitting up position (nearly impossible for me) and wake up to find myself in bed. 

I expect not to be 100% rested at this stage: let's be realistic.  But I can't make this my daily routine.  Pretty soon (4 1/2 weeks, to be exact) I'll have the kids home with me again, and there's no way they're going to let me nap from 10 to 1.  Not to mention that eventually, I'll have a squawking miniature who will need to eat, and who, like her brother and sister, will need attention during my current hours of mid-day slumber. 

What did you do to get to sleep during those last, long weeks?

On the plus side, I at least will be used to her current schedule of wake time which is 11 pm to midnight, 3:45ish to 4:30ish, and 7 a.m.  She's pretty regular already.  I hope she doesn't mix things up once gravity kicks in.

Kelly (yaaaaaaawn) Down

It's Wednesday, It's Wednesday

Are you ever afraid, that, like, you're going along thinking, "Lalalala, it's Wednesday, happy Wednesday."  And then the next day you're thinking, "Lalalala, it's Thursdy, happy Thursday."

And then suddenly you stop in your tracks.

Is it Thursday?

I don't know, what day is it?  Yesterday was Wednesday, right?  No, wait, how would I know if I don't know what today is?

So you run over to the door where you practice days-of-the-week with your kids, which maybe you should stop doing because obviously you're no expert, and you look at the "Today Is..." and it says "Sunday" and you're like, "Whoa, it isn't Sunday is it?"  Then you realize you're a crappy mom and haven't done days of the week with them in possibly 4 to 5 days...

So then you run over to your dry erase board calendar to make sure you haven't forgotten any important appointments, like, "Tuesday: Get induced" and you realize you haven't written ANY of your friggin' appointments down.  Not that it would matter because you don't even know what days you've missed.

So you rush over to the t.v. because t.v. knows, like, everything, and hope that it will tell you what day of the week it is.  You turn on the news.  It tells you the time.  8:44 a.m.  It tells you the temperature, 68 degrees.  It tells you to start working out because you're fat and you're going to die.  You turn off the t.v.  How dare it insult you like that so early in the morning.

Then you realize you have about forty million other "date outlets", like your cell phone, if you could find it, or...do you hear the trumpets my friends...your computer.  Your loving computer.

So, in case you didn't know.  Today is Wednesday.  July 14th.  2007.

Kelly Down

No Blood In My Brain?

I called the doctor yesterday.  I just didn't enjoy fainting as much as I thought.  And Miss Pitty Pat always made it look so fun!

Anywho, he thought maybe I had an inner ear infection.  Erm...k...minus the fact that I have zero other symptoms.  Oh well, I love extra co-pays and doctors appointments.

So, I drug my husband and kids to our family doctor.  And guess what...are you ready for this...are you sitting down...NO EAR INFECTION!

To be honest, I had been hoping I did have an ear infection.  A couple of antibiotics and all would be right with my brain.  Alas.

But he did notice that my blood pressure was low.  So, he had me lay down, took it again, then had me stand up.  Amidst a scream of "Bring me my salts uncle Peter I feel faint!" we found out I have very, very, very low blood pressure.  It dropped to 89/60. 

I'm not just a dizzy blonde after all!  Well, I guess that's debatable.

So, I may just need a pint of fluid every here and again.  I wish they had chocolate flavored saline...

Kelly Dizzy

P.S. I think one of the side effects of Low Blood Pressure is being very, very, very cranky.  Very.

P.P.S. Kimberly, why do I always cry when I read your comments?  I'm sure it has nothing to do with the hormones...thank you.

Music Therapy Monday

Over at All Work and No Play Make Mommy Something Something, my Canadian friend Kim does a fabulous Music Therapy Monday post that I always love.  I won't be doing it regularly like her, because, well...I don't do anything regularly.  Like, ANYTHING (where did I put that laxative again...?), but yesterday a song struck me hard, and I was in tears.  At church.  I hate it when that happens.

And it just so happens that this particular song was already one of my favorites.  Not only was it written by a great, great, uncle of mine, but it strikes a chord in my red personality.  Push on people!  You can do it!  And if you die, then great, your troubles are through.  I always liked that line.

But the first two verses struck me hard yesterday.  It's been a tough week for me.  Here they are:

Come, come, ye saints, no toil nor labor fear;

But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
Tis better far for us to strive our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell -
All is well! All is well!

Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward if we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell-
All is well! All is well!

It felt like all my recent pleadings with the Lord had come to a head, and something had to happen.  Something had to give.  But instead, I got worse.  What I thought was hypoglycemia, simple low-blood sugar, seems to have have morphed into some strange inability to absorb iron.  Which I need wicked  bad.  I fainted in the car after a simple ten minute trip to Costco, where I had to keep sitting down.  Thinking it was just low blood sugar, Brett got me a berry smoothie.  I downed it.  Nothing.  I felt worse.

Next thing I know, I'm laying in bed, and Bretts trying to wake me up to get me to eat something.  I'd been out around 45 minutes.  He had to drag me from the car.

Sunday was no better.  To give Brett a bit of a lie-in, I started some oatmeal for the shortcakes, only to find myself so severely dizzy, and my legs so gumby and weak, that in no time I had lost any and all balance and strength, and fell to the floor.

The term, "Help I've fallen and can't get up," isn't so funny anymore.  I laid there for a good 10 minutes, so dizzy I couldn't uncover my eyes.  I was sure I was still falling.  It was the worst feeling in the world.  Luckily I whacked my head on a tiny drink cooler we had taken to the park a few days ago; it was soft.  Much softer than the floor.  Thumbs up for not putting things away right away!

After a few minutes, my sweet little 3 year old came in.  "Mommy, why are you laying on the floor?"  I couldn't talk, I only moaned.  She sat down next to me, petted my arm and my hair as tears started falling from my eyes.  Get daddy, I kept thinking, but I couldn't talk, I was that dizzy.  Finally, I mumbled through my hands, "Get daddy, honey."

She got up right away and ran to our bedroom door.  I heard her say, "Mommy wants you to..." something something something.  Then she closed the door and came back to me, crossing her legs and petting my arms.  "It's okay, mommy."  This only made me cry harder.

After another few minutes of this, I asked her again.  "Go get daddy, baby."  "I tried, he said he's sleeping."

UGH!  "Tell daddy mommy fell down."  I had hoped Saturday's incident was still fresh in his groggy mind.  It was.

Come to find out later, Kembry had told him the first time, "Mommy wants you to come and lay with her."  Haha, he was like, "Yeah freaking right.  I'm sleeping in!"  Poor guy. 

So I went to church.  I desperately wanted to hear my sweet friends singing, but I didn't make it.  I couldn't hold my head up, not from the usual shame, but from pure exhaustion.  My head now weighs 400 pounds.  And then we sang this song...

The Lord was comforting me, telling me to hang on a little longer.  Not necessarily not to complain, cause I mean, I don't do that anyway, I'm a total stoic *hyuck hyuck*.  I know this song was used because it was my favorite, because it's always held a special spirit for me, because it's words speak to me.  Rehashing it in my mind, I had hoped it was the "All is Well!" that struck a chord for me, but it wasn't.  I don't think all is well.  I'm horribly worried.  But I do know that Lord has been hearing me, and is working with me, and in due time (like today, preferably) all will be well.  The message that resonated with me after all was that I should, "Gird up my loins, fresh courage take, Our God will never us forsake." 

The Spirit reminds me of several optimistic things.  Despite having contractions for 15 weeks, I haven't had a baby.  Despite being on bed rest, I haven't gone insane.  Despite putting a real strain on my marriage, we're closer than ever.  Despite it all, we've managed.  I just need that fresh courage.  It may be this next 5 week hurdle will be the hardest.  Oh well.  It's only 5 weeks.  And 5 weeks in the scheme of eternity...meh, not such much.  5 weeks until I get that reward I've been working for: nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  I can totally do this.  Lying on the kitchen floor.

Rinse and Repeat.

Happy Monday!

Kelly Down

I Crawled Under a Bus

Okay, not really.

Actually, for a woman on bed rest, I spend very little time in bed.

Though I wish I was in bed.

Right now.

Anyway, Project Nesting has taken a little longer than it did with the last two...probably because of the current two...but it's coming along nicely.  All the dainty little 0-6 month closed have been washed, smelled, folded and fondled by yours truly.  Something about tiny hats and tiny socks that just make my uterus contract.  Oh wait, that's everything.

Today I had two wonderful friends come over.  I also had the pure intention of taking pictures of all 8 of our beautiful children, and failed fantastically.  I didn't even remove the camera from the car.  Yay me!!  But I had a blast anyway, because I was with another gestating female, and there is strength in numbers.

Oh, and you know how when they rest their tiny little head on your tiny little cervix, and swivel it from side to side, and you wonder if you're about to die from the stinging, uncomfortable, strange pain?  Yeah, we're there.  TMI?  I'm good at that these days...

Anywho, tomorrow marks 32 weeks.  Feelin' pretty proud of my body for staying strong.  My cervix is the gatekeeper of the year. 

Now to go and crawl under that bus...okay, not really...

Kelly Down

Sometimes the Husband Knows Best...Sometimes

I like to think I am a woman of faith.

But, through a series of confessions to my husband, I realize, I am a woman of pride. 

Somehow I let it slip that, of all the many things I've prayed to the Lord for in these past million weeks, including the ability to endure and keep a positive attitude, I have yet to pray for my contractions to stop.

*Gasp!*

My poor husbands face clearly reflected what he was thinking.  "You mean, this whole time I've been hauling around kids to grandparents, and washing dishes, and doing laundry, and scrubbing toilets, and rubbing your fat feet...all this time, you could've been praying for and asking for some relief?!" 

Okay, maybe he didn't really think this, but it's what I would think.  He was a little shocked.  He knows how much I rely on prayer and how important it's always been to me.

He was patient, calm, and gave me some excellent advice to help soothe my pride and rev up my faith.

First, he said, read the Book of Mormon, by yourself.  This is a big deal for me.  I rely heavily on Brett to help me understand the scriptures.  He has an amazing talent to teach the scriptures, and I love it!  It takes out the dirty work of me having to try to interpret and understand them for myself.  Yuck.

So maybe the dude has a point.

Second, he reminded me of the scripture about the Brother of Jared, who asked the Lord to light the stones.  He reminded me how surprised the Brother of Jared was when he saw the finger of the Lord, and how he went further and asked to see His whole body.  But more importantly, that the Lord showed himself to the Brother of Jared.  The Lord works through our faith, and is anxious to answer our prayers. 

Simple, no?

Then he asked how I felt.  I had to admit that, while I really hate these contractions and all the worry that surrounds them, I just feel a little sheepish asking the Lord to take away pain when I know I am able to endure it because he has blessed me to endure it.  My red personality screamed that I can handle this, and I don't need to bother Heavenly Father about it.

Brett then patiently reminded me, "Even Christ asked that the cup pass from Him."

Talk about a spiritual slap in the face.

Needless to say, I've been reading my scriptures, by myself, and have started down the trek of letting go of my pride.

One thing that he said that has really stuck with me is that faithful children of God can expect miracles from Him.  Would it be a miracle for my contractions to stop?  In my simple mind, yes.  I'm not big into moving mountains. 

But I also know I only have 5 1/2 to 8 weeks left of this particular trial.  I've learned a lot, especially patience and trust, and I think Brett has learned a lot too.  While I am a bit ashamed that I haven't had the faith to ask for divine intervention, I am grateful for the things we've learned.  For one thing, our marriage can withstand a lot of below-the-belt punches.  I wouldn't trade the pain and risk losing that wisdom for anything.  But perhaps it's time I let go of my pride and ask for a little more help...

Kelly Down

Happy Birthday to Me

Everyone puts their babies status updates, and since mine is still baking, I'll put my status and updates.  Aren't you lucky?

Age: 26
Status: Short, fat and pregnant.
Current Craving: Bruchetta
Uterus: Pissy
Feet: Swollen

There you have it.  It's been a successful 26 years, I think the researchers who created me would agree.  Married, 2 1/2 cute little ones, a couple of cats and a house on a road with a mini-van.

Hope your 4th of July was as full of Freedom and BBQ as mine was.

I.E. I hope you're not an illegal immigrant living in Arizona.

Kelly Down

Cheesecake Will Do, Thanks

I was this close *hold up two swollen, stubby fingers an inch apart* from going to the hospital yesterday.

I went to my sweet cousins wedding.

She's very tall.  So is her new husband.  So are her 6 sisters. 

I am not tall.

More to the point.  I had the worst contractions YET, as one of my cousins Abbie had predicted.  It sucked butt.  I popped my drugs and laid down and waited for death.  Instead I slept.

I cling to the ol' "This too shall pass," like it's a bloody life-line.  But lately I feel my hand slipping.  This feels like it will never pass.  But then , that could just be the last 24 weeks talking...Or it could be that I'm nearly 31 weeks pregnant and any woman 31 weeks pregnant feels like there is no light at the end of the tunnel but more pain and a lot of blood.

(Time to go stalking those new born pictures again, I think...)

I have 6 weeks 3 days left of 'bed rest' and I am determined to make it until then.  I'm just gonna need a lot of cheesecake between now and then.

Kelly Down