The One With the Poison

Saturday was a super eventful day. Not nearly as eventful as I was hoping for it to be, but eventful none the less. Our doctor's appointment went well, it is true what they say I guess that you should expect to gain a pound a week at the end - kind of makes me want to gag whenever I step on that scale. . . . I really hope I never see those kind of numbers in my life unless I am pregnant. They are gross numbers that should not be put together. As long as I can remain smaller than Eric while I am pregnant, somehow that feels okay. . . .

So weight good, blood pressure good, everything good.

"You having contractions?"

"Yes, just like I have been."

"Ah so they're probably not doing anything. . . . we won't even check you this week. I think you may make it to your scheduled date!"

The doctor said this with a little smirk and secretly I wanted to smack his 2010 Treasure Valley's Most Handsome Doctor face!!! I may make it to my due date? Okay doc, let's get one thing straight. It was you that told me from the very beginning of this pregnancy that you didn't think there was anyway I'd make it to Christmas. It was you that said you didn't think I'd make it out of the first couple weeks of December. Well guess what doc?!?! We're through the first few weeks of December, and realistically if this baby doesn't come out tomorrow, I don't know that I so much care to have him until my scheduled c-section -- I'm really unfond of the idea of being in the hospital on Christmas Eve OR Christmas Day and not being able to spend it with my family. So how bout in the future, doc, you make sure never to get a pregnant lady's hopes up by telling her that her pregnancy will be any shorter than 40 weeks unless you are willing to do the c-section I've been begging you to do for weeks now early. Umm K?!!?!?! And don't smirk at me about it, I don't like it. I feel like you've done something to me that is making me stay pregnant. You sewed everything shut last time, didn't you?

Next thought - well doc, at our 20 week ultrasound they said something about my cervix being 4 cm thick even though they usually like to see it at a 2, is that maybe why all these contractions aren't doing much? No, he says, actually that's a sign of pre-term labor . . . . oh so it really is that God just doesn't love me then? I have all the signs of pre-term labor, without a pre-term labor. That's just rude!!!

Then doc says that at our next appointment in a week he will check for sure and see if there's really any chance we will have this baby before Christmas. Well our appointment is set up for Thursday - right before Christmas. He says if I am dilated to a 3ish they will just take the baby out that day. This isn't too exciting for me and I'm seriously debating whether or not I want to PRAY that I will be dilated at all. Really? Having a birthday on the 22 seems like a lame day. WAY too close to Christmas - no one will want to celebrate it! Although I'm really not sure if it is any worse or any better than having him on the 29th like is scheduled . . . debatable topic. Also, if we were to go in for a c-section on the 22nd, I would be guaranteed to not be out until Christmas Day at least, meaning no Christmas Eve festivities, and although I have been telling my family this entire time that I want them to bring everything down to my room and do Christmas presents there - I'm really starting to doubt the actuality of them doing it . . . . . or if I am really mean enough to FORCE them to do it.

On the other hand, if I make it to Thursday and he says yup you're dilated chances are I would just end up in L&D on Christmas day anyways. So really it's a toss up. I want this pregnancy done, especially after the weekend from hell I am about to inform you of, but I just can't make up my mind on whether to pray for Thursday or just wait until next Thursday. Another thought happened across my mind last night. I was sitting in bed talking to the awesome hubby and it hit me - If this is really going to be the last kid we have, there is this huge part of me that wants to go into labor by myself just to feel it one last time.

Sounds strange, right? Yeah, i know. It really is strange, I'm not even sure why I'd hope for that, but somehow I do. I guess I feel like it means I accomplished something maybe, I don't even know. But I had that thought, and that seems to really describe my feelings about this child.

My second feelings about this child is that he is already my least favorite.

Now while this may seem premature and highly rude of me to already have this fetus at the bottom of my list of three kids let me explain. Parker was induced a week early, we had Preslie 3 weeks early, as of this Sunday, if I am still pregnant then, this will be the LONGEST I have been pregnant with ANY of our kids. Being pregnant . . . . ya ya I know everyone talks about how it's this amazing, beautiful, wonderful thing. . . . but let's face it, the only thing truly wonderful about it is that at the end of an extremely long ten months, there's a child at the end of it. That's about it.

Call me bitter.

Seriously, you can.

But I'm just not one of those women who LOVES being pregnant. In the beginning it's like, oh I can't wait until I start to show!!! And then that very quickly turns into man I wish I wasn't so fat!!!!

And in the beginning you enjoy rubbing all that lotion that is supposed to prevent stretch marks all over your tummy, in fact you're so excited to begin using it, that you start using it before you even really need to. Then it turns into - why the hell am I even rubbing this on my stomach it's obviously not working, $16 a bottle and my stomach still looks like a bengal tiger. Sure it's fun to get maternity clothes, it's even more fun when those maternity clothes start being to small. And it's fun to feel a baby start to move . . . . for about a month, and then when all you have is heels in your rib cage, fists punching your bladder, and a head pressing against your cervix (but not actually making it change) you contemplate why you ever wanted to start feeling the bugger moving around anyways. All the burping and heartburn and lack of sleep, lack of ability to get close to anyone, lack of the capability to snuggle your super hot hubby etc etc etc is worth it once you finally squeeze out the kid - or in our case once the kid is sliced effectively out of your stomach - but during the nine months I just don't find it all that amazing.

Yes call me crazy all you want.

So aside from the fact that it does appear this child will indeed have the gestation period of a small elephant, he also has made me sick. Read on . . .

So as I said in the beginning, Saturday was a productive day. We got up, got the house cleaned up, and set out to finish the VERY finishing touches on Christmas so that we could get presents sent up to Oregon, wrapped for family down here, and be DONE completely. A nice person at Eric's work gave him all these super great coupons to Carl's Jr - yeah they proved to be super great - so we decided to hit them up for lunch for the family. Ate some hamburger's, went and bought some more clothes for child who has yet to make his appearance, braved WalMart, Home Depot, AND World Market, and then went home finally for the evening. Well get into bed later, and I could not get comfortable, I just couldn't fall asleep. Weirdest feeling ever, my stomach didn't hurt, I didn't necessarily feel sick, I just couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep despite the sleeping pills I had taken. I also kept burping, like every 10 seconds, which is really gross in general but takes on a slightly grosser sound when I tell you it tasted like the hamburgers I had eaten for lunch - YUCK!

About one o'clock rolls around and I am so tired, and so uncomfortable, and so tired of not being able to sleep that I jump on the genius idea to get in the bath. The hubs is sleeping, so I eventually heave my body out of bed by myself and make it into the bathroom where I sit in a very warm bath - which is how I like them.

Not long into it, and I begin to have that familiar feeling of THROW UP. Once again, not a stomach ache, just the idea that I'm about ready to lose what little bit is left of lunch in my stomach. And then there it comes. Awesome heaving of some great gastric stew ALL over the bath. Eric came in about the seventh heave as I was starting to drain the water. Poor guy, no one should have to witness the aftermath of a pregnant woman throwing up everywhere.

And let me just say this. It has been years since I have thrown up, probably close to two. Not that I haven't had my fair share of throwing up in my day though. But here's one thing to think about - what color is your throw up? Sounds like a weird question right? It probably is, but for whatever reason it's always been extremely interesting to me. I've had brown, orange, even more brown, I even had one case where it came up as green as pea soup, complete with ham bits and everything (which would have made sense if I had eaten pea soup beforehand, but I hadn't) but I have never in my life had FUSCHIA colored throw up.

Apparently my gastric juices have taken on a diva-esque vibe.

Well naturally, after throwing up I feel MUCH better. That's usually the case. So I take another bath to get cleaned of my puke covered skin, then get dressed and go back to bed. That whole event took place from about 1-2 in the morning. Well 3 o'clock on the nose I wake up again, all uncomfortable and not able to get to sleep, so I go in and make a bed on the floor of the bathroom, sure that once again I'm about ready to throw up. And then eventually it happens. And then it happens a third time, and then a fourth. All spaced pretty evenly apart, and all with a feeling afterwards of "this will be the last time". Finally I had Eric give me a blessing, because I honestly felt like I was going to die.

Let me just try to explain. Throwing up is not fun, obviously, sure you feel a million times better after you actually do it, but it's not fun during the process. I have thrown up enough times to know that there seems to be a FINITE difference between throwing up from the flu and throwing up from food poisoning.

With the flu, it's just like HUH!! and you throw up, and it's kind of dainty, and just feels like your stomach is in knots, and then you throw up once and it's over.

With food poisoning it's different. It's like with every heave your body is ripping apart, and your stomach is reaching down into your intestines to pull stuff out for you to spew into the toilet. It's violent, it's terrible. I would WAY rather throw up from being nauseas with a baby or the flu than food poisoning.

Now add to that heaving, to the depths of your large intestine, ripping out of your innards the fact that I am pregnant, and therefore, consequently, have practically no stomach muscles to aid in the throwing up process. That means, I do believe, that I literally at one point had small intestine hanging out of my mouth as that was the only way to drain it of the poison that had no doubt taken over. Add to this situation again the fact that I had taken a sleeping pill and you get the trifecta of no bueno-ness. It was hideous.

Well this time, I was pretty positive it was food poisoning. About six o'clock I finally got into bed and was able to fall asleep until about nine. Eric was great, he came in every time he heard me and stood by me holding my hair, rubbing my back, calling L&D to see if we needed to be concerned or come in, and I thought all of this was so sweet.

Until I remembered the part where Eric thinks it's HILARIOUS to watch other people throw up.

I'm still undecided on if his interest in my throwing up was one of pure concern or one of pure hilarity.

Let's fast forward this a little bit. I spent practically all of Sunday in bed, feeling like death. Not to mention the fact that all that heaving had apparently started some kind of contractions as I had them most of the day. While I really want this child out, the last thing I wanted to do was go in and have a c-section feeling like the absolute death iced over that I did. So luckily they stopped and Sunday night I got some good sleep.

Well I was pretty sure that I had food poisoning.

After Parker's upchucking last night, I'm not so sure. Although he seemed to have a little bit more of the 24 hour flu bug in that he threw up, twice, but then went to bed and is great today. I also had the flu shot, which I know is not a guarantee that I won't get one of the other fifty million strains of the flu that is no doubt swimming through our community, and it does seem strange that I could get food poisoning and then Parker could get the flu two nights later, but I guess anything is possible.
Worst idea now is that Eric and Preslie are next. Eric can handle it, big tough man that he is. But I HATE seeing Preslie sick, HATE IT! Probably because of flashbacks to the hospital stays and everything, even worse though is that she's so little that she doesn't really understand. To Parker I can say, hey if you throw up, lean over this bowl - that won't happen with Preslie, and the whole time she'll just be looking at me for some sort of help which I won't be able to give her.

In any case, pray for our family that Parker and I are the only two that get it, and that somehow all the Lysol I've been spraying everywhere, and the massive amounts of cleaning/disinfecting will work and that no one else will be sick for Christmas.

In other news - for those of you that have been waiting for a belly picture of me, here it is.



The One With the Limp Run

Thursday is work day. But at least it's a work day where Eric goes into work a little later and can be at home to help out with the kids in the morning. That's nice. . . . . even if he does spend most of the extra time relaxing in a bubble bath.

Kidding.

About the bubbles at least.

Eric is a girl when it comes to baths. I mean seriously, he will sit and soak in a bath for HOURS - seriously. I have one timed at 2 hours 37 minutes, and 21 seconds. Try and beat that one.

I personally don't get it.

I enjoy getting in the bath, letting your muscles relax a little bit, do a little swish, do a little sway to get the bugs away, but then I'm OUT! I can't sit in a bath forever. I can't remember the last time I actually got out looking like a prune. That could be because my skin is already stretched so tight around an enlarged uterus that it can't wrinkle up, but either way, I'm not wrinkly when I get out.

Our kids have adopted Eric's love for bath time too. Preslie will sit in the bubbles all splayed out on her stomach forever. She mixes it with a little "I wanna get out" and then you go over with the towel and she yells, wags her finger at you, and says NO! You know, just to keep you guessing.

Parker likes staying in baths too. But the second you point out that his fingers have started to resemble albino grapes he freaks out and starts to cry. Usually I try to get him out before this tragedy happens, or we just don't mention it.

So we got to work without much of a hitch this morning thanks to Daddy and his amazing ability to keep the kids entertained while he lazes in the bathtub. I'm not sure how he does it. If the kids are anywhere near when I get in the bath all I get is empty sippy cups thrown at my head while Preslie yells more or Parker running in yelling about how he wants to watch Phinny Ferb. I don't know why Dad gets listened to so much easier, I mean I'm the one who talks to them all day long, you'd think they'd be used to it by now.

Let's back up a day.

Yesterday was the most ridiculously productive day I have had in forever. Got up, got ready, got the ENTIRE upstairs cleaned and vacuumed, got the kids fed breakfast AND LUNCH (uncommon occurcance) got them in bed, and then I buckled down and did some massive amounts of homework. Like really. An entire chapter of that insane critical thinking textbook that makes me want to rip out my hair and ends with 17 pages of detailed hand-written notes, an essay for one class, a million quizzes taken for both classes, and I even got things posted, correctly. amazing...... When I realized I only had one paper left for the entire week, and then I start a two week break for the holidays, I decided it was time God and I sat down and had a little chit chat.

I said to him, God, please let this child be born soon. It's what's best for all of us. Me. The family. Christmas. My grades. Really it's in everyone's best interest.

So far nothing has happened. I hoped that all the cleaning and mopping and cleaning and mopping yesterday would turn on some sort of contractions. But all I got was a child who has decided he likes to stretch out in the shape of an X in my stomach. One hand pressed firmly against each one of my hip joints, his head where it's obvious, and a leg in either rib cage.

And this is where the "limp run" comes in.

Phone call for the boss man comes at work today and he's nowhere to be found. Well the guy waiting for him on the phone is a good client who has served 3 tours in Iraq and is leaving for a 4th this year (not sure if this one is Iraq or Afghanistan considering all this media coverage about the War in Iraq ending). So when I hear the boss is most likely out in the warehouse I decide to just do a quick jog out there. Ha ha ha. Easier said then done.

Well I get there just fine. Open the door, get the message where it's supposed to go, get started on my way back out and what should happen?

Well, unborn child decides to stretch out and do some jumping jacks in my stomach. Member those arms in my hips I was talking about? Yes, perfect timing child, perfect timing. Out pumps the fists directly into my hip flexers and an immediate charlie horse ensues. Now a charlie horse isn't that bad usually . . . . I mean a little sore, a little stretch this way and that, and it's no big deal right?

Well try having a charlie horse in both legs.

Yes, now you start to get the visual.

I all of a sudden have an inability to use either one of my legs. Which wouldn't be a problem if I didn't need to do things like stand, or continue to jog as I was doing at the time.

I tell you what, I narrowly avoided a face plant with some awesome triple jump skills that would be sure to win me an olympic medal of some kind.

Then later in the day we are reviewing some paperwork in the office, and I get the same thing in my hips, except this time unborn child decided to throw in a little charlie horse in the lower back action as well.

I tell you what, this kid needs to learn that he has 9 months inside of me, but I have 18 years where I am legally in charge of him and can do whatever I want.

Remember that unborn child, remember that.

So here we are Thursday evening, I've got my homework done, I've got the house incredibly spotless clean, we've got a full pantry, full fridge - you know, all the necessities covered for a mommy to spend some time in the hospital.

We go in for our 38 week appointment (HURL) tomorrow.

While I have been having the same contractions as always, been walking, been squatting, been doing some contortionist routines (or trying to at least), and so on, I'm fairly convinced we will go into the doctor's tomorrow only to hear that once again "NOTHING HAS HAPPENED!"

I'm beginning to wonder if bribery would help with this doctor.

There's always wishful thinking though . . . I mean God and I did have a one-on-one the other day, maybe he listened. 

The One With the Countdown

So today is my Grandpa Carpender's birthday - don't ask me which one, all I know is that he is OLD!!!! 

Just kidding, I think he was born in 1936 or something, so he's however old that makes him.

To me he's just grandpa, not an age, so don't think I'm lame. Plus, I'm his favorite so I can get away with whatever.

Not really, but I pretend that anyways.

December 13th sounds like a wonderful day to have a baby, doesn't it?

I sure think so. But then again so does the 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st. 

After that it all gets iffy. I don't much enjoy the idea of being in the hospital on Christmas, seriously who would? I mean if it would get this ginormous growth that has accumulated in my mid-section off, I may be up for it, but that's only if my family is up for bringing all 3,281 presents into my hospital room and sitting on top of each other while we open them up, only to take everything BACK down to their cars later.

I will make them do it.

Don't think I won't.

So family - for your own sake, pray this baby comes out soon. 

Not to mention the desperately dismal birthdays this child will have if he comes out that close to Christmas. Nobody wants to celebrate a birthday when they were just celebrating Christmas .7 seconds ago! Not to mention the fact that he will have truly lame birthday presents, like socks or something, because everyone will spend all their money on Christmas already. I don't even like Preslie's birthday in February because I feel like it's too close to Christmas. This child is really going to get the shaft.

So last Friday was our 37ish weeker appointment (not officially until Sunday). Doc says, "do you want to be checked?"

Well really doc, I don't think any woman would actually enjoy that process, but out of curiosity's sake I kind of want you to. But then again, with Preslie - Friday they didn't check and then Saturday she was here, so maybe maybe we should not have you check and history will repeat itself. 

Then husband chimes in with, "If you're up for it, I'm sure she wants you to!"

Oh Eric, my sweet, sweet Eric. How I love you and loathe you all at the same time. I love you for knowing me well enough to know that I am ridiculously curious about this and I want to know. I loathe you because you obviously have jinxed it and now it will no longer happen this weekend. Well, I didn't actually loathe him at the time, I didn't really loathe him until Monday when all of a sudden nothing had STILL happened. And even then I didn't really loathe him. But you know that part in movies when the pregnant lady is yelling at her husband all red faced and bitter "YOU DID THIS TO MEEEEAAHHH!!!!!" cause she's in so much pain during the labor. . . . yeah, I say that to Eric all the time, only I'm not in labor. Secretly Eric I loathe your doctor who told you that you wouldn't be able to have kids. I loathe him. I LOATHE him! And I loathe the makers of birth control - ALL of them. Because we have been on ALL of them when ALL of our kids have miraculously found their way to my stomach. I think I just might send all my medical bills to those companies just to see if they'll pay for it - I mean come on guys, you don't want it to get out that your stuff obviously doesn't work. 

Back to the story.

So doc says, okay let's check. Brief intermission while I change into a very small sheet, and then doc comes back, checks and what is it? What is that you say doc? Nothing is happening? As in  . . ..  NOTHING???? Gulp. YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!!

Sure I act like that's fine, like I knew it was coming. But in reality if you had told me I was already dilated to a 14 I would have acted like I knew it was coming too. I've given in to the idea, but secretly I keep enough of a hope alive and enough of a conversation going for both sides of the argument so that every time something happens I can be all knowing and say "See, I knew it, I told you that would happen." It's called playing both sides of the bet, it makes you rich faster . . . . in Vegas at least, but it sure ain't helping much here. 

Thoughts? Well I guess like I said I wasn't so surprised. Of course secretly I was hoping that SOMETHING would have happened. I mean, I've been keeping up with my squats, I've been walking around a lot, I've been cleaning and mopping the floors, and there have been a couple hippidy dibbidy . . . . what else is there for me to do? 

Ya ya ya, I know, baby will come when baby's ready and a little more of that Charlie Brown "waaw waaw waww waw waaawwww" but I think baby needs to learn how baby is going to have to start doing things when I'M ready. I heard the other day that on average boys have a longer gestation than girls do because it takes them longer to develop the surfactant to their lungs. Well sure, I don't want my child living in a plastic box for a few weeks, but maybe a few days is okay, I mean that's what insurance is for, right?

Okay, if you thought that was serious and are all mad at me now, just stop reading cause clearly you don't understand me and my humor at all!!!!

Rant finished. 

So Saturday, oh yes, Saturday there was a few hours of very awesome contractions. Contractions that were strong enough and only 8 minutes apart that I thought for sure this was going to be it. I didn't sit down all morning, just cleaned and cleaned and cleaned hoping to keep the contractions going, but when they all of a sudden started being 12 minutes apart. . . . . and then 17 . . . . . and then 30 . . . . . and then 24 hours apart, my dreams started to fail me. 

Sunday, tithing settlement. And you know what, I wasn't feeling great, and the kids had been up a lot the night before, so there was this strong urge on my end to tell Eric to go by himself.

And then the heavens opened and I knew what would make the baby come out.

If I go to tithing settlement like a good little girl, if I go to all three hours of church even though I'm tired and sick and don't feel well, if I go and participate, God will bless me by having this child.

Easier said than done.

God doesn't like me challenging him I don't think.

Because not a single contraction happened the rest of the day.

Depressing.

I go to bed every night with these little twitchy pains and I think - this will be it, I will wake up in the middle of the night and we will have this baby. It will be awesome too since I always take sleeping pills, so I'll be out of it entirely when I go into L&D at 2am with my hair messed up, no make up on, and slobber dribbling down my chin. It's okay, I'm willing to risk the terrible pictures that may come from it as long as I can get out of this!

Monday I had a bajillion hours of homework to do. Seriously, my first block of classes and I'm out with a 4.0. Then I get into a critical thinking class and already I'm dreading what it's going to do to my GPA, I'm sure it won't be a 4.0 after this block of classes is over. It took me 7 hours to read and take notes on one chapter that was 29 pages long. Uh, ya, lame. And I can't just not read, because this professor is smart and has caught onto my ways and she requires that we take 77 quizzes after we read each chapter. It's my favorite. Really.

Reason #111 why this baby should come out soon? This week is my final week in classes, then I have a two week break for the holidays and don't have to start classes back up until January 2. Well here's the no bueno to my cake - the c-section is scheduled for December 29th, which means I'll be in the hospital until at least the 31st, most likely the 1st, so I'll come home and immediately the next day have to start up into classes. That sounds about as appealing as fingers running down a chalkboard, nails being stabbed into my eyelids, or having to listen to deep southern bluegrass for longer than 0.1255 seconds. Baby should come THIS week, that way I can spend my three really boring days in the hospital finishing up my papers for the week, and then when I get out, I'm good and done with school for a solid two weeks and can recover and get used to the swing of things with 3 little kiddos before I have to start back into school. 

I'm hoping I have been a good enough girl this year that Santa, or God, or whoever I should be asking for this gift, will give me what I want! Clearly it's the best for the masses here people. Clearly.

The One With All the Squatting

Husband and I had the good 36 weeker appointment on Friday, and guess what?!?! They finally checked everything out.

Doesn't matter anyways, they might as well have skipped it.

Doc puts his hand on my stomach, digs around real low for awhile talking about baby's head (Uh doc, where did you go to med school? Pretty sure that's my full bladder, stop pressing on it or there will be disasterous consequences!!!!) to which he finally said, "I doubt you're doing much, his head is still pretty high [pause for checking] nope your cervix is closed tight."

WHAT?!!?!?

You mean all these ridiculous contractions I have been having are doing nothing?

It would have made me extremely depressed except I had already accepted it (see previous post) and assumed we would go in and he would tell me that. But then again, there was still that small glimmer of hope coming from the idea that with Preslie on Friday "NOTHING" was happening, and then we had her on Saturday. So I guess it's still possible . . . . . except that it's now Monday and nothing has happned still. . . . . so maybe not this week.

So now we are up to weekly appointments. I'm seriously just thinking, why weekly? What's the point? If nothing is happening all these weekly apopintments are doing is making me get out of bed extremely too early, making Eric take time off of work that he has to make up later, and making me wonder why we decided to have another child while I watch the two we have go crazy at the doctor's office. Oh wait, ya that's right, we DIDN'T want another one.

We'll take what we can get here, but God seriously, if you're going to force a pregnancy on me, at least make it short and sweet. Snap! Snap!

Friday, ntohing happening right? Other than some serious nausea - I think it has to do with the David Beckham that uses my stomach as a soccer ball. So what do I do? I turn to my friends. My friend Sireena is due a few days after me except God loves her enough to already have her dilated to a 3! So I'm asking her what I need to do. The answer: cervix softening.

You know how you do that?

Doing the exact same thing that got me into this lovely mess to begin with  . . . . . a LOT!

And squatting. . . . . a LOT!!!

Hmm . . . . one of those sounds more desireable than the other.

So I squatted, most of the weekend.

Kidding.

Kind of.

We won't get into details on the first, other than at 36 weeks pregnant, it requires a lot of diagrams, and schematics, and contortionism - and not the kind your hubby would normally find attractive.

Besides that, Eric was gone with the Scouts from the time he got off work Friday night to the time he got home on Saturday afternoon. Package that idea up and save it for later.

Friday night the kids and I went to the grocery store. I colored and cut my hair cause you gotta look god when you go in to get a baby cut from your stomach, and the kids watched TV until it was time for bed. Then I took my little unisom friend, who helped but me to sleep, but still let me wake up every hour ON THE hour for the entire night. I tried texting Eric who by some miraculous stroke of luck actually had cell service, but to every PG-13 rated text I sent him I got the same text back "It is so EFFING COLD!!!!!" DENIED! - I don't like being shot down, so I'll go to bed.

Saturday the kids and I got up, got the house cleaned up, and got mostly ready before Eric got home.

It's go time right?!!? WRONG! I think he had been sitting inSIDE the fire the whole night, he stunk that bad - and that's not my pregnancy snuffer saying that, that's my adoring wife who loves her hot husband nostrils coming to that conclusion.

Ah oh well - we had family coming over anyways to watch the game.

BSU Game - really boring!! I hate watching Boise State lose (seriously gag me, every time they lose I relive Eric's brother Scott doing his stupid little fist pump hip thrust dance in the middle of Katie's living room - not plesant) but watching them completely STOMP all over the other team is really boring. Especially when they aren't even paying that well, it's really just that New Mexico is that bad. I was truly hoping for an awesome Bowl Game this year so that Boise could get out of their current slump and start proving their stuff against a team that actually knows what side of the football is up . . . . no luck there, the BCS is a joke. Seriously?!?! Pull up teams from 17th and lower to put them in BCS bowl games, but completely ignore number 7 here just so you can fill a few hotels?!?!!? I love Kirk Herbstreet! He's got it down!

LSU - Georgia game, now that was a winner, for the first half at least. And then we watched Wisconsin and Michigan State (I think) it was a day full of football - make men beat their chests and say YAR!

Oh, and did I mention that all day Saturday I was squatting, at every opportunity I could.

Squatting is no new experience for me. I was a power-lifter in high school. Before I screwed up my knee cheerleading I was easily squatting 250 lbs of solid metal plates attached to this really uncomfortable bar. I don't know what it is with being pregnant that makes that so difficult, but we're talking I'm currently 155lbs (Gag! Did I really say that?!) and after a few dips I'm DYINGGGGGGGG. You know that dead calf feeling you wake up with in the middle of the night so you stretch it and then it just gets worse - ya, that feeling, only in my hamstrings. TERRIBLE! But around 9 o'clock that evening it seemed to have worked as I was having MASSIVELY terrible contractions. I didnt' want to sit down, so I paced in our bedroom until Eric yelled at me and I submissively at on the edge of the bed, getting up periodically to do more squats. Let's get this kid's head into position so he can get the truck out! Well, the contractions got bad enough that by about 1230 I was pretty convinced that eventually we would be headed into the hopsital. So I went downstairs and pulled out my Zebra striped overnight bag and brought it up - you know, just in case.

Just in case my a**!!! That bag now sits on my closet floor mocking me for still being empty, and for still being at my house rather than on a cold hospital floor.

Oh Zebra bag - I WILL get the last laugh.

By about one o'clock the contractions were slowing down, so I got in bed, didn't take a Unisom figuring it was too late, woke up at 4, stayed awake until 645, and was woken back up for good about 830. Oh good ole Sunday mornings and my kids inability to sleep in like teenagers.

Next thought - if I get up and actually go to all three hours of church, God will bless me to have this baby. Sacreligious? Maybe? But I sure thought it.

So I went to church, I even participated by offering the prayer in Sunday School, answering questions, and was part of a Christmas program in Relief Society - by all accounts I was being a dutiful person and keeping up my end of the deal.

God however, did not. About 5 o'clock, bring on the massively painful contractions for about two hours, and then they will subside.

And why you may ask? I don't know, apparently God wanted me to finish my final on Racial Tension in my community. Seriously God, don't you know I already have a 100% in that class? If I didn't do the final I would maybe drop to a 85, I'm okay with that if this kid gets out. Remember that, cause if I make it to another final you and I are gonna be having some words.

That night I was so tired from my lack of sleep the night before that I zonked out pretty early. Lame weekend yes. At least I have this Friday to look forward to - when I have another doctor appointment in which he will inevitably tell me that my cervix is closed, but this time will admit to sewing it shut after the last baby . . . . I'm pretty sure that's what he did.

In the mean time this is what I miss:

I miss being able to walk through a crowd of people without leaving a wake of destruction in my path.

I miss the time before I was pregnant when I could punch the random person who decided it was appropriate to rub my belly.

I miss being able to hug someone myself - rather then having them bounce off to outerspace every time I try.

I miss being able to wrap my arms around someone when I hug them.

Make out sessions are no fun when you can't breath . . . . just sayng.

I miss being able to wear green shorts with a green shirt and NOT having my husband tell me I look like the Grinch.

What I am most excited for: I truly HOPE/WANT/NEED to call up Eric at work one of these days and tell him "It's time to go in!"

With Parker I was induced as planned, and Preslie was a surprise on a Saturday, so I didn't get to make the phone call that gets my husband sprinting out of work (amidst cheers of course) and driving like a crazy person to get to the hospital just in time. Something about that sounds fun. I want it to happen  . . . . . TODAY!! (preferably at least). 

The One Where I Give In To "God's" Plan

Well, here we are. 2 weeks from my last appointment, and 2 days away from the next one. I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't even make it to this appointment on December 2. Maybe convinced is the wrong word. I wasn't so much convinced as I was truly, to the depths of my soul, wishing that I wouldn't make it. Well, it being Wednesday, and the appointment being first thing Friday morning, I just don't see it going any other way than me being there, sitting on that table, getting poked and prodded, and being pregnant for much longer.

I reached the breaking point yesterday. We were sitting in bed watching Storage Wars (Eric just loves all those A&E specials - American Pickers, Pawn Stars, and so on) while I was gaming it up on Spider Solitaire (in which I didn't win a single game - Yes Spider Solitaire, I know you think you've beat me, Yes out of 4,628,371 games I have only won one, but this game is really all about consistency) and I looked over at Eric and said "It's happening." To which his response was "WHAT?!?!" In hindsight that probably wasn't the best word choice. I meant it's happening, I'm going to stay pregnant all the way up until I am practically 40 weeks pregnant, I'm going to have to endure Christmas dinner and parties and opening presents with a giant basketball yoga ball attached to me all the way up until the 29th of December when they will surgically remove said yoga ball who will presumeably weigh close to 10 pounds by that time and will continue to prove he is just as stubborn and runs completely on his own time for the rest of his life as he is now.

(That was a long sentence . . . . . perhaps that's why my teacher graded me down for "run-on" sentences".)

Eric laughed.

That's what he does for me lately.

He laughs.

Really it doesn't bother me. I know that I am the spitting image of all the Hollywood movies about pregnant women - I can't get out of the bed by myself I have to use Eric to push me out in that 1,2,3 HEAVE method you use when you try to get your Great Aunt Bertha up off the couch at family parties. I laze around on my days off in sweats that are entirely too big for me, they're actually entirely too big for Eric too, I'm really not sure which one of us brought them into this marriage, but even those GINORMOUS sweats barely cover my ever growing belly. I have an oven timer on my stomach that while it popped almost two weeks ago is a constant reminder of the hipocrasy of oven timers, as it sits there, continuously poking out in all of my clothes, day after day, and still no baby "dings" and comes out. I guess that's probably why they have taken back the suggestion to pull the turkey out of the oven the second that red button pops up. No leave it in, that will make momma happy. I eat about 20 tums a night - at least my calcium levels are through the roof, but sometimes I wonder how safe 20 tums a night is. Maybe secretly I'm hoping I go into a calcium overdose and they are forced to remove said child that is causing said heartburn and forcing me to eat said tums.

Unisom? Oh that lovely little invention of a gel tab sleep agent for my poor ailing pregnant body. How I love thee! Well, that is I DID love thee, until thee all of a sudden stopped doing thee job two days ago and have started abandoning me about 4 in the morning at which point I am left to toss and turn for the rest of the night. The cosmetic stores I am keeping in business in order to hide the giant black bags under my eyes thank you Unisom, they really do, you are making them rich.

This week is finals week. dun dun DUNNNNN!!!!

It really hasn't been so bad I guess. I got my first two papers done, have my third all typed up just waiting for a final read through and then to be turned in, then the last one, which is the one I am dreading as it is a RESEARCH paper on current ethical dilemmas in my hometown (what ethical dilemas? In Idaho? There's only white people here anyways) is due on Sunday. There was a time where I felt that if I procrastinated FOR SURE Murphy's Law would step into play and I would go into labor making it impossible for me to get my papers done, and showing me just how bad procrastination is on my 4.0 GPA.

Don't worry. I don't think that way anymore.

Instead I have resigned myself to the idea that while I sit in our very hard wood office chair staring at a huge computer screen typing about "Learning in an Info Age" or the "Continued Effects of Slavery Today" I get to feel little tiny nudges to my pubic bone every 3.27 seconds as our little boy has the hiccups yet again, and get up every 7.65 seconds to use the restroom as our little boy has decided to use my bladder as his permanent pillow causing me to go to the bathroom constantly while only able to expel tiny little dribbles. I can't wait until the day when I actually feel the "my bladder is full and I have to go the bathroom now" feeling and it actually rings true, rather then the hypocrisy that is that "full bladder" feeling when even a medicine dropper forces out more liquid.

Somehow I think this little one is waiting to come out until I actually have it registered in my brain that I can not, under any circumstances, actually fit my body through that tiny space between the seat and the sliding door on the van to help Parker put on his seatbelt, or that tiny space between that lady at the grocery store who is standing in front of the pop tarts - inevitably I will find myself wedged between the door asking Parker to "push mommy" (true story) or swing my giant gerth of waist into said lady as I try to maneuver around her. I swear, the men in my life have this uncanny desire to teach me patience . . . . . which is unappreciated.

Alas, it has been decided. I give in. I have now accepted the fact that it will be 29 days from today that I will walk in to the hospital at 8am ready to have them yank out a baby that they have scheduled for eviction at 9:30, but knowing that it is a hospital, and knowing the continued mission of this world to teach me patience, I know it will actually be 11:47 before the actually take me back to get the process started. I have now accepted that my stomach is going to get bigger, I will have to break my rules of wearing sweats out in public because in the matter of two more weeks I will no longer have any clothes that keep the entirity of this bouncing bundle of joy hidden. I have accepted the fact that I will drop all of my Christmas breakfast off of my fork, but rather than it firmly hitting the floor and creating a sticky syrupy mess, it will instead land on my fluffy shelf tummy allowing itself to be eaten once more.

Instead my attention has been turned to finding things to do to pass the time.

Yesterday was family dinner and my Uncle Brian's Birthday. Tonight is my Grandpa Lewis' birthday and I will be headed into Meridian for cake and ice cream for that. Tomorrow is work. Friday is a doctor's apointment at which I will find out nothing new, and then work. Friday night is a scout campout, Saturday morning is cleaning, making Christmas candy with the family, and the Boise State game. Sunday is Church. And so on and so forth. The only continued annoyance with the end of November/beginning of December is the constant reminders that SOMEONE'S baby at some point in time actually decided it was a good time to join the world, but alas, mine stays firmly snuggled in place. November 29th Uncle Brian's Birthday, November 30th Grandpa Lewis' Birthday, December 7th Grandma Carpender's birthday, December 13th Grandpa Carpender's Birthday, December 23rd is someone's birthday although I can't remember, December 25th Jesus's birthday (incorrectly, sadly mary had to wait an additional four months for April to roll around), Decemer 26th bro-in-law Jared's Birthday, December 27th Aunt Tiffany's Birthday, December 31st my brother Jordan's birthday . . . . and I'm sure the list could go on and on. It's these constant reminders that there is a child that is supposed to be coming out any day now and isn't that are what is making me truly saddened.

I'm sure when this child eventually does decide to come out, I will be so happy to have his handsome little face out, that I will forget about this whole waiting around game, but not yet.

I guess for now, it's just time Eric and I decide on a name.

The One With the Apple Manzana Turkey

Ahh Thanksgiving. . . . . .

As I said on Facebook, I love thanksgiving because it gives me a reason to be grateful for all the people that know how to spell grateful . . . . and laugh for an entire month at all of those that don't.

Don't get me wrong here, I make spelling typos as I type on the computer, but for the most part they aren't outright spelling errors of words that were in our 4th grade spelling vocabulary. Ha ha ha.

Don't worry, I don't judge, I really just laugh.

Unless the person is continuously retarded.

At which point I judge appropriately.

'Nuff said.

Moving on.

We just passed Thanksgiving on Thursday, and despite my constant pleadings, my constant prayers, and my constant hopes, I was STILL pregnant.

I guess that's to be understood, considering I was still technically five weeks from my actual due date.

But you know how it is, it gets close and especially when you're used to going into labor a little early, somehow you just start hoping for it to be earlier and earlier.

I tell you what, if Eric and I were actually going to have any more kids, I would probalby be praying for the fourth one to be done and cooked by 20 weeks.

Seriously . . . . . I could never be an elephant.

Pregnant? For 2 years? What are you nuts?

Somehow the momma elephant got handed the crap stick during creation.

Plus she weighs like two tons.

I don't think God much liked the elephants.

But anyways, I was still pregnant. We got up on Thursday, knowing we had to be to my parents for turkey dinner at 2. So we got to cooking. Eric had somehow volunteered (or rather BEEN volunteered) to make the turkey.This was scary to us as neither one of us has ever made a turkey before, and the last thing you want to do is be the one to cook the dry turkey that everyone has to eat for Thanksgiving dinner.

So he, being the truly creative and innovative chef that he is, stabbed a bunch of holes in a can of Apple Manzana, shoved it up the turkey, and cooked it for a few hours. We also made green beans (killer green beans) and stuffing. By the time we got that all made, got cleaned up and ready, it was already time to head out the door.

Thanksgiving this year was pretty low key. It was technically a Lewis (my dad's side) thanksgiving, but since all the other aunts and uncles were off galibanting around the country, we ended up having dinner at my parent's house with the Carpender's (my mom's side). It was my parents, two brothers, my sister's family, us, and then only my Grandma Carpender was there as my Grandpa Carpender was sick. SO SAD to not have the entire family there for the dinner. But it was still yummy!! :)

Most of dinner was spent being highly uncomfortable for me, as I was trying to stuff turkey and sweet potatoes down into a stomach that is already so overcrowded with some squirmy little worm that there really wasn't much room for anything else.

The rest of dinner was spent with Eric and I making completely ridiculous jokes to my brother Jordan who is just about to turn 19, and has is first girlfriend of which the first thing he told us about her was "She's a Jew."

Now don't get me wrong, we have nothing against Jewish people - as a race or as a religion. We love Jewish people. But you have to understand Eric and I and our insane ability to make any situation crazy and something to talk about, and to completely misconstrue anything that comes out of my brother's mouth until even he isn't entirely sure of what is actual truth and fact anymore.

Example:

"So she's Jewish, huh?"

"Well, she's actually taking the discussions, but her Dad is Jewish by race."

"Jewish by race?"

"Yes."

"So is his name Josephat?"

"No. Her parent's names are Joe and Emily."

"Yes, but Joe is short for Josephat."

"No it's not."

"Is she coming over for thanksgiving dinner?"

"No. She's on vacation with her family."

"Where?"

"Israel."

"Oh to visit her homeland huh?"

And then later:

"Does her dad wear a hat on his head?"

"No. Her dad is Jewish by race, but he's Christian."

"Does she get to celebrate both the 12 days of Christmas and the 8 days of Hannakuh? Because that seems entirely unfair."

"I don't know."

"Are you going to buy her a present for Christmakkuh?"

"I don't know."

"Well if you do, you should make her a dreidel . . . . . out of clay."

We then all sat down and played the spoiled version of Monopoly. You know the one. The Monopoly game where they give you all debit cards that you load into a machine so you no longer have the added bonus of learning proper banking techniques by handling real money. Plus they start you out with $15 million dollars, and you get $2 million dollars every time you pass go. Oh and Boardwalk? Ya you land on that bad boy and stay in it's hotel . . . . it'll cost you $20 million!

Good thing I owned Park Place AND Boardwalk.

And had $22 million on my debit card.

And didn't own a single other property.

But had a free stay at every other property on the board.

Ya, you could say I am a Monopoly genius. . . . .

So anyways, for dessert some of my mom's brother's came over and my grandma came in and out from checking on my sick grandpa. She's really just not used to being anywhere without my Grandpa, they never go anywhere apart. . . . I think it's cute.

And secretly I hope that Eric and I are like that when we get old.

Really Thanksgiving was a lot of fun, mixed with lots of laughter that I can't even put into words (like the above conversations between my brother and us, probably doesn't sound that funny, but you had to be there). I'm excited to see my little brother with a girlfriend. Some members of the family are a little worried, because she isn't the same religion as us, but they've only been on a few dates, and he's 19 we're not talking marriage or anythign at this point in time. But I like seeing the self-esteem boost that my brother has knowing that he has someone who likes him and wants to be around him. The constant text messaging rings were getting a little old . . . . . but mainly because he wouldn't let me read the conversation.

So next comes Christmas.

I told Eric that if we haven't had the baby by Christmas, we aren't going anywhere, we're staying at our own house so that I can laze about in giant t-shirts and sweat pants. . . . . which is a sight no one wants to see, so keep your fingers crossed that this little baby comes out soon!

In good news though, everyone is recently telling me that I have dropped. Which makes sense, seeing as how I swear his head is in between my knees, and every time he gets the hiccups I feel it in my thighs . . . . . umm weird.

I just hope one of these days he drops completely out, rather than just firmly setting himself up against my pelvic bone, punching my bladder and kicking my rib cage.

The One With My 33 Weeks

So today I am 33 1/2 weeks pregnant. . . . . .I think know I'm ready for this to be over. And please NO ONE post the "oh it will happen when it happens" or "not yet, the baby wouldn't be healthy" or blah blah blah.

Seriously, that drives me crazy! DUH! Of course I wouldn't actually want to go into labor and have this baby if it meant he wouldn't be healthy. And of course everyone else you hear say they are "so done" with being pregnant is thinking the exact same thing. All of us that are in this position have this thought "Please baby be healthy . . . . but if you could be healthy like now instead of in six weeks, I will buy you a Porsche when you're 16."

But yes, by all means child, if you are not "ready" to come out yet, stay in there a little longer . . . . just don't be surprised when you get a beat up old Volvo junker as your first car.


So anyways, I've been having lots of contractions. I keep thinking, okay this must be it, but then I look in the mirror and I think, "wait, have I 'dropped' yet?" I don't know if I have. It's all confusing to me. Every time I'm pregnant I "carry" in a different place. With Parker I didn't even look pregnant until the day they induced me, with Preslie I carried her in my spine and it hurt, with this one apparently you can tell it's a boy because I'm carrying "all out in the front"  . . . . or so says the lady at WalMart. Really, some people's inhibitions about talking to pregnant women surprises me. I can take that comment from Eric or my family or close friends, but somehow it takes on an insult-esque shape when said by a total stranger.

Two weeks ago at my doctor's apopintment they said "oh no, we'll check you next time" so I was pretty excited to go in today. Really this is because I had somehow convinced myself that they would check and say "Whoa you're a 4, let's get this baby out!!!" and that we would have a baby in time for ALL the holiday cheer. EHHHH WRONG!!!

Doctor comes in and says "Any questions for me?" Uh yes doc, I sure do:

1 - Remember when you told me to up my iron intake? Yes, well I did, and ever since I started that I have had this uncontrollable nose bleeds that last an hour and I'm pretty sure the last one had my entire liver in it. Oh good, you think it's not related? Interesting . . . . cause two days after I stopped upping my iron, the nose bleeds stopped. Just the weather? Yeah you're probably right, but I'm not risking it. Somehow I think my iron-depleted blood is probably better to deliver a baby with than no blood.

2 - I cleaned the ENTIRE office last Friday in preparation for a client that was coming in, and ever since I seriously feel like I've ripped open. It's like my hip flexers have been torn (or really the adductor muscles for those of you who know what those are) except up higher . . . . weird. I'm pretty sure this means that I'm going into active labor and you should take the baby out!!! EH wrong again. he says my "pelvic floor" muscle has probably been pulled and there's no way to fix it other than having the baby . . .  . well sheesh you have me sold, lets have this baby!!!!

No go? Really? Dr. West, I mean I like you, I've referred many a friend to you and your awesome ways, but man, you're killing me here . . ..  yeah I'm sure eventually I will thank you.

Moving on.

Then the question from the doc is, "Have you decided on getting your tubes tied?" Hmm . . . . that is the question.

I'm not all for taking away God's plan and not allowing our family to have more kids (although seriously if he's all powerful, I should be able to get pregnant whether those tubes are firmly latched or not) but this has been a LONG STANDING debate between Eric and I. Given some medical conditions I have, namely a seizure disorder, pregnancies are a little tough on me. Plus I have a broken back - no seriously, I know I'm not in a wheelchair or anything but you can believe me, I speak truth! It's called spondylolysis - look it up. Essentially my L5 vertebrae is split in half, and it can shift at any time, most commonly it happens in pregnant women. Oh goodie. So pregnancies are no joy ride for me, plus they seem to come of their own accord . . . .

Well doc, what do you think about IUD's? Are the effective?
Yes, they are 99.9% effective so that's good.
Ah yes doctor, but that's what they say about seasonale, birth control, and those little things that come in square packages.
That's true, you do seem quite fertile.

This is true sir, stop laughing at us. We've been that .1% THREE times over. All three on birth control, even multiple forms of birth control, and all this from Eric who's not even supposed to be able to HAVE kids! (or contribute to the process thereof as no man actually HAS kids.)

But really this seems like a massively monumental decision for my 24 years to handle. What if I tie the tubes and in four years decide it's time for JUST ONE MORE (ha ha likely story, we'd end up with triplets)??? But then again, what if in a year's time, with an IUD in we end up pregnant. Pregnancies with IUD's = disastrous consequences on mommy and baby.

Chances are we will stick with the IUD and double it up with total abstinence . . . . .psh. Too much information. Let's move on again.

So here I am 33 1/2 weeks, with a huge giant basketball in my tummy, I can't breathe, I sleep at nigth only because I take this wonderful little gel tablets of Unisom that knock me the truck out, I'm starting to not even be able to fit HUGE t-shirts over my stomach so I'm getting a complex, I can barely walk, I get tired going up the stairs, and before I got o bed at night I have to use the restroom at lesat seven times. (But that could just mean I'm OCD).

The doctor says they will absolutely start checking in two weeks at my next appointment, and everyone there after. That appointment is December 2, I'm just hoping I really don't make it that far. That would be nice.

The One Where I Want To Cry

This post is probably not going to make a lot of sense, it's not going to win awards, it probalby won't be the best post I have ever written, but I always said that I wanted this blog to be more like a journal - for my family to look back on and know what was happening around us. Unfortunately, I have gotten out of the habit of writing what is going on, from an awesome journal-ish perspective, and have found myself only sending out posts of major events in our life.

I really just felt I needed to document my feelings today. I have this great friend - I count her as a friend, I have no idea what she thinks of me as, as we don't talk on the phone, or text - our sole communication is over the internet anymore, and we met under some intersting circumstances. But honestly, words could never express my crazy weird pull to this girl. She is hilarious, she's funny, she's awkward (in a good way), she is spiritual, and she and I have had some interstingly related experiences in our lives - both of us had a parent going through cancer at the same time. I truly look up to her, and I hope she knows that.

Over a year ago, this friend of mine lost her baby girl when she was almost full term. The baby was born alive, but with no brain activity, and it was up to this friend of mine, who seemed way too young to have to make this decision, to decide to pull their baby off of life support and sit with her in the wee hours of the morning as she passed from this world to the next. I literally cried for weeks at random times of the day for such a loss. I can only imagine what that must have felt like, or how the pain would almost consume you. It gave me perspective on my sweet and loving, but honestly sometimes crazy, children. I didn't want to be pregnant when I got pregnant. Not either time. It was like the most fleeting thought would come to mind of "oh maybe a baby soon would be okay" followed quickly by "nevermind because of  . . . (long list)" and then two weeks later I would be looking at the lines on a stick. Hearing of a friend, or of anyone, who has to experience the loss of a child, makes me regret that I ever had those thoughts, it makes me love my kids a little more, makes me want to spend a little more time around them, a little more time with them.

At the time I couldn't imagine going through what she was, I still can't. I just remember that I kept thinking "she's too young for this", "when did we get so old", "this is something only old parents have to deal with" etc, etc. there has not been a week go by that I have not thought of her since. I have kept in contact with her, done my best to be a friend to her, and truly rejoiced with her when I heard a few months ago about their second pregnancy. I was elated for her to be pregnant again, and to be able to feel the joys of motherhood in this life. I was happy when she found out it was a boy, unsure how I personally would have felt if I had been in her shoes, if it had been a girl. I have been actively reading her blog and hearing her excitement grow for this new baby boy that woudl soon join their family. Seeing pictures of blankets she was making, getting ready for a nursery again, and finally seeing some hope come through in her posts of a positive outcome.

My mind set had always been, that baby girl must have been amazing, she must have already been perfect. This is proven by the fact that all she had to do was come here and receive a body, she's back in heaven, where we all want to be, and what a guiding light to follow. To always want to be the best you can to return to be with her. How blessed I would feel, obviously through years of pain, to be the parent of such a perfect child, that God saw me fit enough to be her mother. I'm not saying I want this to happen to me, I truly don't know that I would survive the ordeal like my friend has. I'm not sure I could stay as strong as she has, and that is how I know she is an amazing person. I would never wish this on anyone, ever, but through all the pain, there is light.

This afternoon, I got a call from my mother, telling me of a family medical emergency that had happned, I'm not wanting currently to go into much more detail than that, as I don't know a lot about the sitation yet. However, I was feeling down and sad, and shocked to the core about what had happened to such a close family member.

I made my way down to the office, as my kids were both taking naps, and I was hoping to get some homework done as I usually do. Facebook was up on the computer - it usually is. I have to say that I am addicted, slightly, to hearing of great and amazing things happening in other's lives, although I rarely post anything too important myself.

Immediately on the screen was a picture of a tiny baby boy with a crocheted hat on his head. His eyes were closed. I saw the poster, and immediately my heart sank. It was my friend. She is not due until weeks after me, I knew that if this was her baby, at the very least he would be in NICU for some time. I saw the name, the sweet sweet name that she had just recently informed the blogging world they had picked for their son. I was hopeful, and prayerful, I literally crossed my fingers that when I clicked on her name to view her page that I would see good news, that the baby as born very early, and was struggling, but was alive in the NICU. And then I saw her page, filled with condolences from loving friends and families. Far down the page was the post I had missed over the weekend, informing us of the loss of their second baby, a boy who was born still.

I immediately started crying and thinking "oh no no no, not again". But the words on the page made it impossible to deny. My heart hurt, it literally ached for my friend. I knew there was no way I could ever understand the loss of one baby, but the loss of two? It was incomprehensible. I have not even heard of someone losing two babies that far into their pregnancies, much less known the person.

This post is not meant to inform the world of her loss, which is why I will not post her name. It's not meant to sadden lives, or make myself out to be some incredible writer. In all honesty, if no one reads this post, that is fine. I am writing this post only for myself. To rememeber my friend, every time I read it. To remember her, and her faith, and her beautiful, beautiful life. To remember to cherish my children, even if they did come at times I wasn't expecting. To hold them tighter, and love them more in this life, because I can, and there are others who don't get that ability.

This post is for me to remember my friend. To remember what an amazing example she is to me. Someone who isn't her best friend, or even her second best friend, I'm far down the list, I am sure - but she is the best example of a beautiful person, with an amazing soul, and such a guiding influence for me. She is proof, that even at my age, we can be great, we can achieve greatness. She is proof to me of a loving Heavenly Father, that he knows us, that He has amazing things in store for her, and I can't wait to see what her life will bring. I can honestly say that I fully expect to see her as a General Authority before I die. I am constantly amazed by her. And my thoughts, prayers, and tears are being sent her direction.

It brings Elder Uchtdorf's talk from the Spring conference this year back to mind, a poem I posted when we were dealing with Preslie's diagnosis:
"Until today I wasn't sure, just how much I could endure. But now I know, with thanks to you, I'm stronger than I ever knew."

We may not always understand God's plan for our life, but there is a part of me that can't wait until I get to the other side and can see things from his perspective, with his all knowing, and all-seing eyes, and His love.

The One Where Christmas is Already Started

So Eric and I have always been on opposite pages when it comes to when to set up the Christmas tree. We don't have many Thanksgiving decorations, as it isn't a MAJOR holiday that EVERYONE puts up decorations for, in our five year marriage we haven't put out the expense yet. I mean, you're lucky if we get up jack-o-lanterns for Halloween. We can't seem to find the time to really set up for anything, and I really am not too fond of the idea of storing it all. Really we thought this house was huge when we bought it, but I already feel as if we're busting at the seems. We need to put some serious cash into getting awesome gorilla racks and storage compartments etc etc and with all of Preslie's medical bills, the money just goes someplace else.

So anyways, to bring that story full circle, we don't have many Thanksgiving decorations. So sadly Thanksgiving in our house shares its decorations with Christmas. Last year I swear the tree was up the day after Halloween. Mostly because we had already started buying Christmas presents, and I was excited to wrap them and put them out.

Well this year I thought for sure it would be longer before we set up the tree. But here's the dilema. We have a baby due SOMETIME in December. While the actual c-section is for December 29th, my doctor doesn't seem to think there is ANY way that I will make it that far. I'm hoping I don't make it that far, but I'm also afraid he's jinxed it by saying it. If we were to have this baby as early as we had Preslie, it would be within the first 10 days of December. The idea of trying to adapt to three kids, heal from a surgery, handle a brand new baby, AND set up for Christmas is not very appetizing to me. I pointed that out to Eric, so yesterday, while we were listening to Stake Conference, I found Eric in the closet under the stairs digging out the Christmas tree.

So yes, it isn't even Thanksgiving yet, and we have our tree up. I'm actually glad we did it when we did. by the end of it, I was already tired and didnt' have energy for pretty much the rest of the day, so I can only imagine what it woudl have been like to set it up if we had waited a few more weeks.

Last baby doctor appoitnment was the horrible glucose test. This time I tried Lemon Lime - uh yeah, doctors it doesn't matter what fake flavor you give those things, they are still terrible. I was almost positive that all the blood tests would come up with something. I have been beyond tired with this pregnancy, I guess it could be just because I already have two kids to chase after, go to school full time, work full time, have a church calling, and blah blah blah, but I get seriously shaky if I don't eat at specific times of day. Shaky to the point where I will pass out if I don't eat, and feel sick for the entire rest of the day. no bueno. But the office policy on labs has always been "no news is good news" so they don't call you if everything is fine. Well I got no call over the last month. So instead I've just been complaining to Eric saying that we definitely can't have more kids - as if he needed any convincing.

Well on Friday it was the 32 week doctor appointment. The nurse walks in and says "You're glucose test came back great, but you're really low on iron. So if you've been feeling really tired, or weak, that's why." Oh gee, thanks! I coudl have been taking iron supplements for the last month and feeling better, but you decided not to call me. Sheesh! So I'm trying to UP my iron intake by eating massive amounts of cream of wheat and raisin bran. So far it hasn't made a massive difference, but I think it's starting to help out a little.

I thought for sure they would start checking me for dilation at this appointment. Sadly, I was kind of excited. Eric laughed because he couldn't figure out why I would WANT that. Well I don't want the actual act of it, but I've been having a lot of contractions, I was secretly praying I would go in, they would check and say "whoa you're at a 4" and then take the baby out. No such luck. They didn't even check, said they would start next time. Which makes more sense of course, but in my mind I know that when they start checking, that's when things are really getting close, and it seems so much more real.

We didn't even have clothes for this child until Saturday! That's how real, and yet NOT real it seems to be adding another rascal to this bunch. The second we found out what the gender was with both Parker and Preslie there was a huge shopping trip to stock up on almost everything we needed. So I'd say that waiting an extra 12 weeks is pretty crazy for us. Mostly it's been about time, then also we've been trying like mad to get all of Preslie's $10K in medical bills paid off BEFORE this baby comes, that we just don't go out and spend money practically anywhere else.

Well the idea that if this baby comes as early as Preslie, we could have a baby with us in a little less than 4 weeks, and if we were to go earlier even less time, kind of hit us this last weekend. So we went to the new Carter's the opened up by Cabela's and went shopping. I found when Preslie was litle, that around the house, all I ever wanted her in was a onsie and loose pants. It just didn't seem comfortable to her to be in anything else, and I didnt' like getting her nice clothes dirty when all we were just staying inside. So she had a couple different sets of onsies and about three nicer outfits to wear to family functions. So that's what we did with this one too. He has some super awesome onsies, a few t-shirts, and then about four outfits to wear out around the town in both newborn and 3 month sizes. We also bought Parker and Preslie some long sleeve shirts for winter, and amazingly we left spending less than $140. Umm, yes, I love the awesome sales we find ourselves in.

So now we have clothes for the little one, the house is all set up for Christmas in case he wants to come out early (please please do!) and now, knowing my luck, we will make it to the c-section date . . . .

The One With Five Pumpkins

Well this Halloween was MUCH more laid back then it has been in year's past.

Eric's work had a trunk or treat - at which we didn't get pictures apparently, at least, I can't find any although I swore we had the camera there - but his trunk or treat was on the 14th of October, right before we left for Portland.

So we went to that with my sister and her family, cause it's really no fun going trick or treating completely by yourself. Eric was in charge of the haunted house so he only got to be with us for a few minutes. He was dressed up like Jack Skelington. The kids went through the Haunted house, that was actually decorated surprisingly well seeing as how it was bright outside, and there were only limited funds to work with. Bennett about had a heart attack when he walked by Julie (from Eric's work) who was dressed up like the creepy scarecrow from Batman. All she did was twitch her finger, and he screamed, and it was funny, but I felt bad all at the same time. Poor kid.

I had hoped to make Preslie's costume this year, I really didnt' know what I would have her be, but it seemed like all the costumes at the big stores were so generic, and that EVERYONE would have the same costume. I hate taking our kids around trick-or-treating and running into a million other kids with the same costumes on . . . . uh LAME!!

Parker found his costume at Costco, so I felt for sure that there would be a million little Jack Sparrow pirates running around, but amazingly, we didnt' see ONE. Making Preslie's costume was out of the question when all of a sudden it was Wednesday night - on a very busy week trying to get ready to go out of town to Portland - and I hadn't started anything. So we went to Target, and bought her a cute leopord skirt and cat stuff - so much for not being generic - and thought we'd dress her up as duh a cat. But we got home and the skirt was WAY too big, and the whole costume just wasn't working the way it was supposed to in my head. So back into the car we went to Halloween City where we bought a costume that she wore twice for WAY too much money - because she's a girl, and she gets everything she wants. So Preslie was a baterina.

We went and picked out Pumpkins at the Berry Patch on the Monday a week before Halloween as Eric had the day off and Berry Patch was closest - not to mention they didnt' make you pay admission if ALL you wanted to do was get pumpkins not play with all the stuff they had out. My grandma had an awesome Halloween party that Saturday night after Eric got off work, and on Sunday, the day before Halloween, we finally carved our pumpkins.

Apparently Eric forgot that using a Sharpie to draw out your plan won't rub off, so his and Parker's had some marks on them, lucky I could use an orange crayola marker on my white pumpkin. Speaking of white pumpkins - that was the easiest pumpkin to clean out EVER! Like seriously, I hate having to sit there with my hands in guts for hours trying to get everything out, but I did that one in two minutes flat, it was awesome. The smell is a little weird, like a cross between a cucumber and a pumpkin so I dont' recommend eating it as it sounds truly disgusting. but they look pretty good.

Parker's is the bat. Mine's the white pumpkin. Eric's is the one with GINORMOUS eyes and a mouth, and Preslie's are the two little ones.

And the pumpkins when the lights are out and the candles are lit! SO AWESOME!

 Parker's pumpkin

 Daddy's pumpkin

 Mommy's very blurry pumpkin

 Preslie had two pumpkins to blow out.

 Bedtime, so the kids look really awesome! :)

 This is probably the best picture for seeing the kid's costumes that we go. Sadly by the time we got home that night they were ready to get out of the costumes and hand out candy, and Preslie was SO COLD that they didn't stay in their costumes long enough to get a good picture. Sad day. This was the first house the kids went to. I thought we had everyone bundled up pretty good, I mean seriously I had four shirts PLUS a sweater on, but there was a bitterly cold wind that night that kind of put a damper on the evening. Makes sense, every year since we've moved into our house we've had awesome, pretty warm Halloweens, so I guess it's about time to have a cold one. Preslie did pretty good running up to the houses until she decided she was too cold, and so we bundled her up in the stroller, put her pumpkin on her lap, and drove her up to the door, and she went trick-or-treating that way. She was quite a hit . . . . which is understandable, she's pretty cute. And everyone loved that Parker was Jack Sparrow, he got a lot of compliments.

 Mommy and the kids.

 Daddy and the kids. Eric had to dress up as a person from a horror movie for work that day. I was not so in the mood to buy him a $40 costume that he would probably never wear again. He was pretty set on being Freddy Kruger, but seriously, they were all so expensive, and hardly ever in his size, and I just wasn't so up to it. I know I know, I spent all sorts of money on the kids, I guess I just figure Eric is old now and doesn't need to have the experience like the kids do - that or we spent all the money on Preslie's costume. ha ha. So Saturday night we were sitting in our room trying to figure out what to do and I jokingly said, just get a hockey mask and be that guy. Well, he actually liked it, we went to Halloween City and found the mask for $3. Then he raided his massive wardrobe for a plain white shirt that he didn't wear anymore, a few cuts and some run in with the fake blood and he was all set to go. Pretty nice to only have to spend $3 on a costume if you ask me!

 And the kids at a door getting some candy. We had a fun time!!



The One Where I Answer 20 Questions about Eric

So I stole this from our good friend Amber.

Whenever I find myself in a blogging slump, answering a million personal questions seems like an easy way to find SOMETHING to write about.

Besides that, call me weird, but I have this fascination with learning all sorts of things about people. Yes, yes, I know . . . . weird and stalkerish. But still, something about it is fun.

My post will be nowhere NEAR as funny as the girl I stole it from. Seriously, she is one of the funniest people I have met in my life - and not like I have to try so hard to be funny Jim Carey, but like I am just naturally funny with my facial expressions and random wording of words like Michael from The Office. Secretly, I am jealous of her, but shhhhhh don't tell.

So anyways, onto the 20 questions about Eric. Someday, maybe he will read this, but chances are our Grandchildren will read it first.



20 Questions


1. Where did you meet?
Officially or unofficially? Officially, according to me at least, we met in my apartment at BYU-I the ONE time I actually decided to go to FHE that semester. It was a hmmm . . ..  he's cute, and he has a tattoo and I was in my I like the bad boy (but still good boys) phase of life . . . that I guess I never grew out of.

UNofficially we met the day before at church when it was decided between me and the "mom" from another FHE group that we would all go to a karaoke bar. Eric turned around and said something like "Don't forget your lemon juice." of which I COMPLETELY did not understand, thought about how weird of a comment that was, decided to X that picture out of my Ward Menu (I mean list), and then forgot about it. Sometime in the first year of marriage he brought up that was the first thing he ever said to me. And then I felt bad for crossing him off the ward list.

2. What was the first thought that went through your head when you met?
Ah man! I kind of already answered this one. I guess I should really read ahead. Uh . . . so  . . . see above.

3. Do you remember what he/she was wearing?
At FHE yes - kahki cargo shorts, a white DC shirt, DC shoes, and a white hat. As far as the day before at church goes, I have no idea, but I'm assuming it involved some sort of colored button up shirt (because he's only recently started wearing white due to his executive secretary calling) and a tie. That's a pretty far fetched guess considering we were at church. . . . . ha ha.


4.Where was the first time you kissed this person?
In Salt Lake at Temple Square - sounds totally cheesy and molly mormon of us, yes? Yeah, weird. So after FHE on Monday, we went out on a date on Tuesday, after which I left for Boise because there was a break from school. After that Tuesday date he was with me at my car, with all of my stuff packed inside, and I was just sitting ther waiting and waiting for him to kiss me . . . . and waiting  . . . . waiting . . . . waiting.
Eric says it's harder to kiss someone when you really already like them . . . . I think that's just an excuse for being a wuss. So the first time we actually kissed, was that weekend when he came down to SLC to go to Lagoon with my family, and we went on a walk, and the hotel we were all at was right across from Temple Square.

5. Where did you go for your first date?
Well once again that depends on if you're talking official or unofficial. At FHE he technically asked me to go bowling with him - but then again technically so did his friend. Fast forward thirty minutes and you have a VERY awkwarded out Crystal who is the fifth wheel bowling with two guys who forgot to mention that they both already had dates.

But the next day Eric took me to get an icee and we walked around Porter Park - or Pioneer park, I can't remember the name of it now. So much for a first date right? lol, no food, no nothing, not even a kiss to end it. Ha ha. But in all seriousness I was on an extreme time constraint, and it was either that or nothing!

6. How long did you know this person before you became a couple?
I'm not even sure when it was just official that we were a couple. I guess it could have been that weekend (so like five days later) when we were in SLC with my family and things were obviously going well. But it could have been decided after we got back and were in the old enviornment and yet somehow we still wanted to hang out. But then again it could have been two weeks after we meant when we got engaged . . . . kidding it wasn't that fast . . . . it was three.

7. How did he/she ask you out?
Well at FHE he just flat out said "Hey a bunch of us are going bowling after this, want to come with me?" to which his friend responded "No, come with me!" and thus began the confusion of who I was actually supposed to be with.
But then Tuesday morning I walked out to my car and Eric had put a note in the windshield (momentary heart attack when I thought it was a parking ticket) saying he would really like to hang out sometime, to which I gave him my number, and amid a few random texts in the middle of my anatomy class, we decided to hang out before I left. I'm not sure of the specific wording.

8. Has this person ever proposed to you?
OH YES!!! He proposed in the Rose Garden at Julia Davis Park, he picked some roses, uh big no-no. And then was all nervous on his broken ankle that he just kept talking (which was kind of cute because he relayed the entire dating experience, which was all of about three days, from HIS perspective) and then when he finally proposed the box was empty. Funny right? Ya, not!
This whole time I'd been trying to look inside it, and then he opens the box and it's empty. Where was the ring you might ask? It had been on his pinky finger the ENTIRE time and I hadn't even noticed. (No, it's not that small, I was just that preoccupied).

9. Do you and this person have kids together?
Indeed we do. We have three surprise children! Seriously, cause Eric was told he would never have kids, and I was most definitely on birth control. Um really, we've been that .1% three times over, it's time for a new joke! Parker who is 4, Preslie who is 20 months, and a little boy with a yet to be determined name, that I am hoping will pop out any day now, but is scheduled for removal on December 29th.

10.Have you ever broken the law with this person?
Oh yes. We Bonnie and Clyde it up QUITE often.

11. When was the first time you realized you liked this person?
About 30 seconds afer meeting him (the second time, at my apartment, not the first time where he acted like a geek). But I used to walk on the side of I like all cute boys right off, and then I slowly weed them out, rather than waiting to decide.
First time I was really hit with the "oh man I've got it bad" was probably the time we were at his apartment watching a movie and his ex, who happened to be not only in our ward, but in the same apartment complex, "stopped by" just to "chat" and I thought she was really pretty and I was sitting there yelling LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!!!! for the eternity she was there. Well, I only thought that in my head. In practice, I stayed hidden out of sight on the couch, eyes glued to the TV.

12. Do you get along with his/her family?
Oh yes. Eric has a good family though so it's hard not to get along with them. He has two brothers that are a little closer to my age that I get along with great, an older sister who is also hilarious, and an older brother who constantly talks crap to me about Boise State and does crazy fist pump dances in said older sister's house over long Thanksgiving weekends.

13. Do you trust this person?
YES! Completely. Although the little girls who always seem attracted to him I am not so fond of.

14. What is your favorite thing about this person?
Ooooh boy. Um his totally cool muscles, or that BTTB tattoo, or that really crooked but awesome smile, or his huge eyeballs surrounded in mounds of thick dark eyelashes, or maybe his awesome style sense . . . . .
I guess if I TRULY have to settle on just ONE I will say the fact that just talking to him on my worst days, which seem way too many and not so far between at the moment, makes everything better. I can vent to him, and he always knows just what to say and then everything can be forgotten and we don't dwell on it.

15. What is the best gift he/she gave you?
Super cheesy answer: my life and the best me possible.
Less cheesy answer: my family
Cheesy answer: My wedding ring
Me trying to be totally cool answer: The kindle he gave me for my birthday.

16. What is one thing he/she does that gets on your nerves?
This is kind of a terrible answer because I think it's wrong to dwell on the things your spouse does that drive you crazy, but he already knows the answer to this one, and it's pretty benign, so I might as well share.
He leaves his clothes crumpled up on the back of the toilet . . . . every day. Doesn't matter if he has all the time in the world, or that the laundry hamper is literally five feet away, he gets up in the morning, throws his clothes on the back of the toilet and jumps in the shower.
Then he makes his way over to the bathroom counter where he proceeds to do his hair, leaving the goo container out on the counter, brush his teeth, leaving both his toothbrush and unappropriately squeezed toothpaste tube (seriously his dad is a dentist, he should know you roll the tube up from the bottom, not just squeeze it haphazardly from the center) on the counter, puts on deodorant, which gets put behind the sink, and then puts on super smelly good stuff that also gets left on the counter.
Oh yes, we have this discussion . . . really babe, it doesn't take any longer to put them back in the super organized drawers I have established, and in their rightful place.
But anymore I just find it funny, and when he is gone, whether it be for a night, a weekend, or a week, I kind of miss it. So now I just laugh to myself and clean it up.

17. Where do you see each other 15 years from now?
I will be 39 (cough cough, I mean 29) and Eric will be 43. At that age we will be sending Parker on his mission, Preslie will be almost graduated, and this little one will be in high school, and I'm truly hoping (unless something drastically changes my mind) that we are done with kids at 3 - too many medical issues to keep this going. So I see us married, happy, with kids of all ages, in good jobs, making a decent living, being active in church, and hopefully taking some awesome vacations.


18. What causes the most arguments?
Cliche as I know it will sound, we really don't fight. He used to laugh when I said that I am a "passionate" person - as in passionate about my beliefs and my opinions. But somewhere along the way, I've tamed out pretty well. Eric and I talk about literally EVERYTHING. So really if there is ever anything bugging us, it usually comes out right at the start, before it has any time to fester. I think the only times I ever get truly upset would be when I feel like my feelings aren't being interpreted the way I want them to, which I find is really a problem with myself and not him - you can't expect your spouse to know what you're thinking if you don't tell them, right?
Seriously though, Eric said at work the other day there was a huge "spouse bashing" discussion happening and they asked him what our fights are like and he said we don't fight - and either people didn't believe him, or they said we would be divorced in a couple years. Which I used to think too, if you don't fight, you don't get out the issues, and pent up issues will lead to divorce.
My opinion now is that there is a difference between communicating and arguing. Eric and I are pretty good at communicating with each other, and trying to see things from the other person's perspective, hence not a lot of arguing happening.

19. How long have you been together?
We just had our five year anniversary September 22, and that's about as long as we've been together, maybe add two months to plan the wedding, and three weeks to meet and get engaged. FAST!!!

20. Are you married?
Yes indeed!