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).