She just turned 8 months old. She is sweet, funny, snuggly, and active. Everyone should get at least one baby like this. She makes the goofiest grin at you if you catch her eye or do something she likes. For example, this morning on the dog walk, she was groggy and just barely waking up. I had her in the sling, because I knew if I left her in bed she would wake up her sister and likely crawl off the bed onto the floor (again). Her skin was still smooth and plump from the depth of sleep, eyes still puffy and her whole body was loose and snuggly. When I pulled poop bags out of the dispense, she sat upright. I handed her her own and she threw her head back giving me the biggest, crinkliest grin, like I had just handed her an ice cream cone.

I often feel bad that I can’t pick her up every time she whines. It simply not possible, but I try to call out to her, tell her I’m nearby – helping her sister in the bathroom, making dinner, unloading the dishwasher… She plays pretty well by herself, especially with instruments, paper (which she tries to eat), and wood blocks. She is crawling, exploring, pulling up, trying to get into things, picking up tiny things off the floor to turn over in her tiny fingers or pop into her mouth. She loves to eat. If she sees you move your hand to your mouth she evaluates what you’re eating, staring to see if she’ll get a taste. She reaches and whines if I drink from a cup – she loves cold water in a glass. She eats watermelon slices, mashed butternut squash, bread crusts, peeled grape halves, avocado spoonfuls, beans, noodles, and anything else we give her. She holds her apple chunk, nibbling off little bits with her only two teeth.

She loves her sister more than anything. She calls out to her to get her attention, watches her play constantly, loves when her sister puts her face up into hers, squealing at one another. It is wonderful and so, so challenging to watch. My three year-old who has always demonstrated such maturity and insight pushes every possible boundary when physically interacting with her sister. She squeezes hands and arms, tugs on hanging feet or legs, tries to lift up the 16 pound baby who loves to wriggle free from anyone’s arms. The preschooler is LOUD with shrieks and squeals, which means the baby matches her pitch. But then at naptime or bedtime, big sister stretches her arm around the sleeping baby, maybe without even knowing it, pulling her close. The preschooler genuinely exclaims, “I love her so much!” and “she’s so cute.” She also runs protectively to shield her from other oogling preschoolers at drop-off or pickup, one day asking me what the teacher was doing with our baby when the lovely teacher was just getting a baby fix and giving my arms a break. Like most sibling relationships, it is sweet, awful, funny, and frustrating.

Our nanny, Jennifer, is the BEST. She loves the baby like her own. She dotes on her, amuses her, snuggles her, and misses her. It’s so nice for me knowing that the baby has those hours of undivided attention, away from her sister or other kids, when she gets to be top priority. I wish I could give her that, but I also love working. We are fortunate that we feel 100% confident in our care arrangement. And picking up the baby is the very best part of the day. Or maybe that’s sneaking out of the bedroom when they’re both having sweet dreams.

This kid goes with the flow. Often at the end of a busy Saturday when I am relieved that an active day is coming to a close, I feel a little bit of sadness that the baby had to go along with everything we did (walking, swimming, shopping, playgrounds, play dates, meals, errands, etc.). I know she enjoys it, and I know it’s usually really good for her, but I almost catch my breath realizing something like “I forgot about you!” (even though I didn’t) because she’s just been tagging along happily, never really demanding to be the center of attention as long as her needs are met. I cherish the time I have snuggling and nursing her in her bed. It’s been so wonderful with both babies when bedtime is familiar, practiced, routine. I set her on the bed, she waits those few moments in anticipation while I pull blankets, turn on the sound machine, adjust the fan, or futz with my nursing tank, and then she happily nurses off to sleep laying next to me, toes kneading into my thighs.

As always, I’m remiss in not posting more updates as she grows, but in summary, she is wonderful and we’re lucky.

Our daughter turned three at the end of June. In short, I will say that the “threes” are living up to their reputation: fun, hard, fast, sweet, and frustrating. Most of the new developments are positive, but occasionally things get challenging. This isn’t a post about the challenges, but a note about some of the fleeting phrases we hear from this rapidly growing and changing little human who can simultaneously seem like a soft, sweet baby and a surly, independent teenager. These words and phrases seem to leave just as soon as they arrive, but they are so cute while they last. I want to remember these, as I know I’ve already forgotten some that have already passed.

Frownwitch (Sandwich) – I remember one day in the car M was sitting in the back and she asked repeatedly for a “Frownwish.” I knew I had heard her use that word once before, but for the LIFE of me I could not figure out what she was asking for. Either she gave up or I offered something else satisfactory, because the confusion eventually passed. I was frustrated with myself because I knew I should know what it was, but repeating it in my mouth in every way I could think of never led me to “Sandwich.”

Salt and Peanuts – While we were in Switzerland at breakfast, M offered our friend Tracy “Salt and Peanuts” with her breakfast. I think the words just sort of tumbled out, because she knows what pepper is and how to say it. Needless to say, we were all exhausted, so perhaps her mind was ajumble. It was adorable.

“Slumsy Party” – When we were preparing for bed, M told us she was going to sleep in our room and it would be a Slumsy party. She meant slumber party.

Panilla – Vanilla. I just love hearing her say this one.

Byue (Blue) – I think I may have written this one before, but just recently she assertively corrected me when I said “Blue” and she said, “No, it’s BYYYUE.”

Monstruction (Construction) and Monrupted (Interrupted)

“I’m not interesting in that” – She’ll say this about food, and she means she’s not interested. She’ll also say “I’m thinking about … an apple…” meaning she would like an apple.

“I’m boring.” (I’m bored). So funny.

Just recently she made a clear effort to incorporate “Absolutely” into her vocabulary. I say it a lot in place of “yes!” She hasn’t quite mastered the placement, but she says “Ab so Yute Yee” and it’s so cute. I’ll try to catch it in a phrase soon.

“What’s that terrible smell?” She says this when she smells something particularly pungent like trash, food, toots, or dog breath. She occasionally says “What’s that beautiful smell?” which is less frequent but more amusing.

Preschoolers, man. They are adorable, hilarious, and sometimes a real piece of work!

Every single day I have things pop into my mind that I would like to document with a blog post, but the best I am able to do is snap a picture or two. Life is hectic. Crazy busy. Our weekdays look like this:

7:00-7:30 wake up, jump into the shower if everyone else is still asleep. If M (2.8 years old) is awake, get her moving toward clothes/breakfast, if baby is awake, change her diaper and simultaneously chatter with bouncing sister. Squeeze in preschooler’s clothes, hair combing, hand/face washing, teeth brushing, and breakfast, grab a shower, figure out what clothes will fit my postpartum body today, pack lunches if I didn’t the night before, pack work bag for baby and I, and get everyone out the door by 9:00. It should be 8:45, but we never make it. Luckily my wife usually walks the dogs, but if she has to work early, I saddle up both kids into carriers and walk the dogs too.
9:00 (9:15) drop off at preschool
9:30 get to my work with baby
12:45 leave work with baby
1:00 preschool pick-up
1:30 get home, carry 900 bags of stuff, one car seat, and sometimes one 33-pound kid into the house from the car
Snack, maybe a book or two to wind down, try to put stuff away that just came back into house
2:00 naptime attempt begins – going to sleep can take 5-30 minutes, nap can be 45-90 minutes
Try to make dinner during nap, with baby’s help (she only sleeps 30 min at a time)
4:00 attempt some fun activity in afternoon (swimming, playground, library, baking/cooking, coloring, etc.)
6:00 dinner
6:30-7:30 play, walk dogs, clean-up, bath, books
7:30 pajamas, teeth, hands/face
8:00 bedtime starts – get preschooler to sleep in her bed (with baby’s help)
8:30-9:00 get baby to sleep in my bed
9:00 get up to start either: packing lunches, cleaning up dinner, packing bags for tomorrow, work, or first alone time of the day (browse phone in a ridiculous waste of time)
10:30ish bed
1:30ish, preschooler wakes up, needs to pee, needs a banana, comes into my bed

Sleep is…medium. The baby rarely wakes me up, and if she does, it’s just to nurse a bit and go back to sleep. If she doesn’t get disturbed (by her sister) she has long stretches of sleep – no complaints here, but I do wake up to nurse her at least once. The preschooler can be a lovely bed companion (basically the only time she snuggles) or she can be the WORST (thrashing, talking in her sleep, flipping up, down, sideways). I’m not a great sleeper anyway, so add in these challenges and I am SO, SO tired.

I didn’t plan to work through my maternity leave (in fact, today is the last day I THOUGHT I would be home on maternity leave), but I have had one case nagging me the whole time. It started October 1, and I needed to see it through to completion. I’m nearing completion now, and it will be wonderful to get it off my back, but it’s been a beast.

Next week our schedules will change because my wife starts maternity leave for three months. That will free me up a bit, especially in the mornings. I cannot wait for a little more freedom and alone time.

Things I’ll write more about when I can find the time:
The nightly banana (unless I find I’ve written about that before)
Working with a baby
My wife getting a new job right as maternity leave starts
Preschool

The last thing I’ll say today is how wonderful these kids are. The older one can be a REAL challenge, but 90% of the time, she’s so funny, smart, cute, and interesting. The baby is just a peach. Literally. She’s happy, sweet, squishy and she goes with the flow.

At work with mommy

Blurry, slobbery goon

Excited to watch basketball players at rec center after swimming

Really loving her butterfly clips.

Nap snugglers

As I tiptoe nearer to the completion of her first month, I want to write about the person who joined our family, since all I have said thus far is about my experience of her birth.

She is tiny and adorable and a wonderful advocate for her interests. In her first moments and days, I was absolutely struck by how clear and alert her eyes were. They are, of course, the baby blue of most newborns, but there is a sharp quality to them that caught my breath. My mother and father independently commented on it as well. My mother said she seems like an old soul, and my dad commented that her eyes were so clear and bright.

On her first night, she was not interested in sleeping in the hospital bassinet. I stayed awake all night, holding her while she slept, careful not to doze off with her tiny body in my arms. When left in the bassinet, even in a tight swaddle, some sort of intuitive alarm would wake her up within 5-10 minutes, alert that she was no longer in contact with another human. She also loved to suckle. A few times I got her hand successfully latched in her mouth, other times she made do with the edge of her swaddling blanket.

She also came with a strong intuitive routine – waking every 3ish hours to eat, sleeping until the next feeding with little awake time to burn her energy. She was awake more at night, for sure, as she seemed to be in the habit of dancing in my uterus while I slept, and resting during the day while I went about my day.

Sleeping through big sister’s soccer practice

There are moments, especially when she is asleep, that I think she looks just like our older daughter. And other times, especially when awake, that I think they look nothing alike! I’m sure this is true even for siblings who share both biological parents. L, our baby, is tan, has dark hair (right now), and a head that appears wider in the jaw than at the crown. Our older daughter, M, had a light bulb head from the beginning, VERY fair skin, and light brown hair that turned to very blonde. Of course appearances change so much with time, so our girls may end up looking a lot alike, or they may look very different, and neither will matter, really. L’s eyes are maintaining a very clear, grey-blue tone. Sometimes I think I see hints of yellow when I look from the side, but most of the time, they are very blue.

Snoozing in mommy’s bed

This baby wants to be held or touching most of the time, though I can get her to rest in an inclined chair or the car seat if swaddled tightly with a clean diaper and a full belly. We are not as quick to jump to her groan or squeak as we were for her sister, merely because we don’t have the bandwidth to provide that kind of customer service this time around. I think it may actually help her in her development of coping skills and ability to self soothe later on. I’m guessing this may have been what the author meant in Bringing up Bebe when she described the pause. We’ll see how it develops.

Hating a sink bath

Reflux troubles this child. M had very bad reflux, but she just vomited once or thrice a day. We knew the signature cry right before a vomit, and we were fast to catch it in a towel or prefold. However, she never complained. She went back to sleep, she didn’t arch her back, she NEVER spit up, barely ever burped…she just puked. This baby has reflux – arching, red face, crying, spitting up CONSTANTLY, but no vomit. I think it may be easier, frankly, because I worry less about how many calories she is keeping down. Our older daughter struggled to grow, hovering at the -10% mark on the growth charts. Because she was atypical with her reflux, our pediatrician missed the diagnosis, and we never medicated – she just eventually grew out of it (after tons of intense testing to rule out other serious conditions). We are prepared to medicate this time, but we’re testing all the more natural alternatives first. I’ve eliminated caffeine, alcohol, dairy, and soy (and as of yesterday, gluten). We feed her tiny amounts of aloe vera juice to neutralize her stomach pH. I’ve tried Slippery Elm powder and I’m dosing probiotics. The situation has definitely improved with all of these changes, but the reflux is still present. I ate a spicy meal when I was desperately hungry about a week ago (yay breastfeeding appetite) and the reflux was bad that night. Lesson learned. Poor baby also struggles with passing gas and bowel movements (though she reliably poops every day at least once), and I know there is still something irritating her system. I fear that it could be gluten (a staple in my diet!), but I may need to test removal to see if her poops improve.

Snoozing through big sister’s swim lesson

She is a good communicator – we know what each cry means. There is the trying to poop cry/grunt, the “I think I’ve been left alone” cry, “something actually hurt or was uncomfortable” cry (which is the saddest and most pathetic cry), I’m hungry and getting irritated with waiting cry/grunt, and “my belly hurts” cry.

Sister sandwich, right after naptime

In summary, she is beautiful, sweet, squishy, and all things a newborn should be. We love her immensely, even though it feels like we’re just getting to know her. I’m very eager for her to start showing more of her personality as she grows, but I don’t want to wish away the snuggly, floppy stage that already seems to be slipping through my fingers.

Big Sister on her due date

Little Sister on her due date

I never imagined I would have a cesarean. During my first pregnancy, we attended childbirth classes at the hospital. The last class was about cesareans, and we braggadociously blew it off, not even considering the possibility. We got lucky and I had a relatively uncomplicated vaginal birth, albeit at 35 weeks.

The first cesarean seed was planted at 35w4d this time around, when the doctor told us baby was transverse. At that time, I realized it was a real possibility, though I still believed baby would flip. At 36w4d, baby was still breech, and at that point I knew she had been breech a long time. Her head was right there, in my ribs. I still hoped she would flip, and I believed a version could work.

It was good for me to have two weeks to emotionally process the possibility of a c section. Being surprised during labor would not have gone well for me, emotionally, as I would have internalized it as more of a failure.

At 12:35 p.m. on January 3rd, after an extremely painful attempt to manually flip the baby, I became relatively certain I would be having a section, though in that moment I thought it was still a few weeks off. They could not dislodge baby’s butt from my cervix – she was already engaged. This did not give me much hope that chiro, acu, or moxibustion would work. I shed a few tears when all the doctors left the room, because I was disappointed, but also because I was in significant pain from the version. In those moments I texted my mom that the procedure had not worked.

A few moments later, it became clear to me that we were going to have the cesarean that day. Immediately. Dr. L hurriedly unhooked any lines and plugs and shoved my giant hospital bed into the hallway, down the hall to the operating room. A nurse was scurrying after him with stuff – IV? paperwork? I have no idea.

He pushed me into a super bright room where about 10 strangers were all doing tasks. Someone was counting clamps. The NICU nurse and perinatologist were to my left by the baby bed preparing the landing site. The anesthesiologist was there, prepping things. There were other people too, but I never talked to them or knew what their jobs were. They wanted me to scoot from my bed to the operating table. I knew blood was gushing out as I did so, and while I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t really want to reveal the pool I was sitting in, though they had changed my bed pad at least twice already. Dr. L. told someone to go get the other pads and weigh them all. My wife said they started hanging them up and it was weird. The anesthesiologist had me lean off the side of the bed, facing away from him. The original nurse helped me lean forward off the operating table without falling. I got the numbing shot, then the spinal. It didn’t seem that painful. Before I even laid back down, my legs got cold. By the time I was lying down, they were inserting the catheter. Somebody stuck something (a monitor?) to my right leg. They hung a sheet beneath my chin, separating my head and shoulders from the procedure. Sam, the anesthesiologist asked if I could feel anything. I said that I could feel them working, but it didn’t hurt. I became aware that Dr. Fruit scrubbed in too, but I don’t have any idea where she came from. There were two OBs working at once. I heard Dr. L say, “Time of Cut?” And the nurse responded “13:23.” I wondered when they would get my wife. It seemed like a lot was happening before she was brought into the room. She finally arrived, and I wished she would look over the sheet and tell me everything that was happening.

I felt the baby come out. It was quite relieving, which is sort of odd. I heard her cry, and I asked my wife if that was her. The doctors made comments about good size and very breech baby (her legs were stuck up in a “V” position). There was a pause while they waited for the chord to stop pulsing. Dr. L said something about why they were waiting. I was glad they did that. I was pretty numb – physically and emotionally.

The baby was handed to the NICU nurses who started working. I started to slide downhill. I don’t know if it was because my blood pressure dropped or what, but I started to feel HORRIBLE. I started dry heaving. I told the nurse I was going to be sick. She held a little bag next to my mouth, but there really wasn’t anything to come out. I silently begged for there to be something, just so I would feel better. I wretched for what felt like hours, but was really only several minutes. They started pumping in medications to help me stop. A NICU nurse later told us that with each stitch, I heaved. I don’t know how that worked. I stared blurrily at the lights and wondered if I was dying. Actually, I believed I was dying. I hated feeling completely frozen, trying to puke, feeling so awful. I could see the baby, but not well. I wondered if I would ever get to know her. I wondered if my wife was about to be on her own with two little girls. I don’t know why I had these thoughts, but I truly believed them at the time, because I physically felt terrible. I sound super dramatic, and I’m really not a dramatic person, but I definitely felt the worst in those moments than I think I’ve ever felt.

My wife brought the baby over next to my head for a moment. I can’t really remember what she looked like in those moments, because I had so many drugs pumping through me. I know how awful this sounds, but I tried to care. I tried to embrace her in warm thoughts. I am glad my wife was holding her. Within a few moments, they left. I was not aware of where they were going. I guess I thought it was the NICU, because that is where they went last time. I think I was aware they were giving her a little oxygen.

Just like last delivery, the room quieted and the doctors continued the repair work. Dr. Fruit said something about strong abdominal muscles and later told me I had really nice anatomy, which was funny to me at the time. I really just wanted them to be done. I started to feel a little bit more normal, but I was still pretty out of it. I remember nurses counting clamps again.

Soon they pushed me into a recovery room. I was surprised to see my wife there, standing at a table with the baby. I said something like, “is she okay?” meaning “she doesn’t have to be in the NICU?” My main nurse was there, two NICU nurses, and my wife. I was on the bed and they heaped warm blankets on me. That was wonderful. They also got me a cranberry juice, and it was divine. Soon, much to my shock and delight, they handed me the baby. She was crying. I hummed to her on my chest and she calmed. I loved her. The feelings that should have been there during my first glances rushed in, and I was aware of every tiny feature. She shocked me again by latching and trying to nurse. I couldn’t believe it. I think she nursed both sides for about an hour, though of course nothing was coming out yet. After having a premature baby, it was amazing to have a baby know what to do instinctively!

I was in the recovery room for an hour or two, I think. I know we told my mom that she could bring our daughter around 3:30 or 4:00, so we must have been out of recovery by that time. I remember laughing a little with my wife, the nurse entering data on a computer next to me, and one of the NICU nurses lingering in the room to make sure the baby was okay. Soon I could move my toes a little bit, and eventually they wheeled my giant bed into the main hallway that they call “Mom/Baby.” I was placed in the room right next to the nurses station, and I was thrilled to have my baby with me the whole time. It was so different from last time when they wheeled me with empty arms to the NICU from the delivery room so I could see my baby on her table with all her tubes. The huge silver lining of this experience was having our baby stay with us, not needing additional care or support.

The cesarean procedure was surreal. I’m grateful that the system is so well-organized that they mobilized and operated in about 20 +/- minutes after the first gush of blood. I’m thankful that the baby was removed before the placenta gave up the ghost. I’m grateful we were 37 weeks so she was cooked enough to survive without much help. There are many things I wish had gone differently, like the version working, the placenta staying intact, laboring, etc., but it is what it is and I’m in a relatively good place mentally and emotionally to accept the good parts without mourning the bad parts too heavily.

On Thursday, January 3, 2019 we went to the hospital for an external cephalic version. Baby was breech, and at that point I knew she had been breech a long time, because what I used to think was her butt sticking up was actually her head. I also knew that I had not been feeling those big kicks high up like I did with her sister. All along I thought she was head down, because I could feel her hiccups in my hips or near my cervix. Turn out, I was feeling her butt move as a result of the hiccups, not the hiccup coming or going out of her mouth.

My wife did drop off and then met me at my office to work for an hour or so, because my office is closer to the hospital and it didn’t make sense for her to drive all the way to her office. We left my office at 9:30 a.m. I had not eaten since 8:00 p.m. the night before, and of course my boss brought in donuts. Cruel. I had drank a gatorade at 5:30 a.m., per their instructions to keep my blood sugar up. As I walked the dogs that morning, I saw a big bird fly over me heading directly north. It sent a strong message into my core, but I didn’t know what it meant. My first hope was that baby was okay, and then I thought “God, I hope that wasn’t a signal this is your birthday.” I was not nervous, but almost a little excited. I’ve always liked Labor and Delivery, because it’s such an exciting place. Visiting would be fun. Driving to the hospital, my wife asked some questions and I clarified for her that we’d be going to the hospital, not the doctor’s office next door. I said I would be wearing the gown, have an IV, etc. because they’re preparing for the worst case scenario, though unlikely. She asked what the statistics of the worst case were, and I said 1%. She breathed a sigh of relief. We parked and chuckled about the many, many times we circled that parking lot 2.5 years ago as we lived in the NICU. As we walked into the hospital, my wife said something about how it could be the baby’s birthday, and I said, NO IT’S NOT. January 3rd is a terrible birthday!

We walked to the elevator, down the hall to L&D. The nurses were friendly. One told me she had a breech baby and didn’t tolerate the version well, so she had a c-section. We got checked into a large room with a nice view. I changed into the gown. It was chilly. The nurse came and went, chatting about the procedure. The doctor came to check with ultrasound and confirm baby was breech. Though I didn’t believe she’d flipped, any hope for a miracle went out the window when she confirmed that her head was straight up. She said her butt was sort of engaged too, which might be challenging. The doctor went over the risks, dismissing the more serious ones. I signed a consent that had been filled out by hand. I told her she needed to get hospital legal counsel to prepare one for her. We laughed. The mood was light. The doctor had to go to some other stuff while the baby’s heart rate was monitored. I got an IV of fluids, since I hadn’t eaten. My wife and I browsed our phones. The doctor came in to say it would be another 30-60 minutes, because someone else was delivering. I didn’t mind, as I never do in those situations, because when it’s your time, you want the doctor’s attention.

We putzed, chatted, browsed. An hour passed. Dr. Fruit (not her real name, but her name is a fruit) came back in and started. It was sort of unceremonious. She just started pushing around on my belly. It was painful, but I tried really hard not to push back against the pain, staying as relaxed as I could. She could not get baby to budge. She called in a second OB. I had met this doctor at an appointment and generally liked him. He has a good reputation in the community. They discussed strategy and position. Dr. Fruit was going to try to push the butt up, and Dr. L was going to try to swing the head around my left side. They worked. It hurt. I breathed. The nurse held my feet for comfort(?).

At one point as they both shoved, Dr. L thought he moved her head down, Dr. Fruit said, “her head is up here” and showed him on the ultrasound. My eyes were closed but caught an awkward exchange. My wife later told me that they exchanged an uncomfortable glance. The procedure was over. They apologized and congratulated me on being so strong through the attempt. They said some babies just won’e move. I knew success rates were about 50%, so I was disappointed, but not shocked.

Dr. Fruit went to schedule my c-section. I asked her to schedule it as late as possible. She agreed. It brought me peace of mind to know that I would hopefully get to labor at least a little, for the baby’s benefit. It also brought me peace to know that I wouldn’t be choosing the baby’s birthday for her, but she would come when she was ready. We agreed I would probably go into labor before the 24th, but just come into L&D and have the section then. I thanked her, and the nurse, who encouraged us to order lunch.

They left. I started to cry. I was disappointed that my future held a c-section, and I was in pretty extreme pain. I was contracting/cramping significantly, but they had told me that would happen. My whole body was shaking from shock. My wife comforted me and we both knew we had done what we could and this was just the inevitable. I also figured we’d try all the things possible to get her to move (chiro, acu, moxibustion, etc.). We started to text our mothers. As I texted to my mom that the procedure was unsuccessful, I felt a huge gush of fluid. I looked at my wife and said “Oh shit.” I was covered with a blanket and I thought my water had broken. She ran into the hall and told the nurses “Her water just broke!” She came back in and held my hand. I was numb. I knew what was coming. A January 3rd birthday, and a c-section delivery. We waited. Nothing happened. More gushes of fluid, which was familiar from my last delivery. I told my wife she needed to look at the fluid to see if it was clear. She lifted up the sheet. It wasn’t water, it was blood. I told her she needed to go tell the nurses. She ran into the hall and said something about a lot of blood. She came back in. We waited again. Soon my nurse came back in and started making preparations. I was sort of surprised that things weren’t happening faster. I knew what blood meant, but it sort of seemed like they didn’t. Someone from hospital registration came in and did some paperwork. An anesthesiologist came in and rattled off what would happen during the procedure. I stayed numb. I don’t remember much of what any of these people told me. The anesthesiologist said something about “less than 1%” when discussing a serious complication. My wife and I looked at each other. We had already hit the 1% lottery once today, we really didn’t want to hear that we were being entered into another.

Eventually Dr. L came back in. He was the first person to act like he knew what was happening. He lifted up the sheet and saw all the blood. He said something like “We need to go, this could go really bad.” He started unhooking the bed and my IV and getting the nurse to help push the bed. My wife was told to wait, they would come get her. They pushed me down the hall. I had a c-section, which I’ll write more about later. Baby was born at 1:25 p.m.

I’ll end the story here for today, because it’s still emotionally exhausting to relive. Nobody ever used the phrase “placental abruption,” but that is what happened. When the doctor thought he was moving the head down my left side he was pulling my placenta off the uterine wall. The story ends well with a healthy baby and a sad/shocked/grateful mom.

At our 36+4 appointment our little one surprised us by sitting full breech. What’s really bizarre is that she feels *exactly* the same way she has for weeks and weeks, and exactly like she did one week earlier when they told us she was transverse. There is a clear and distinct hard bump that is up high – I’ve been told, (and I firmly believed) it was her butt. It would shift side to side a little bit, always staying near center. It went from my belly button area up toward my rib cage as she grew. I swear that I have felt thighs coming off of it, but now they’re telling us it’s her HEAD. I have to believe them, because they’re the professionals, but it’s all very strange. Maybe an earlier ultrasound was wrong? Maybe she has been flipping without me noticing and I’ve felt both head and butt up high (though if this is true, they have felt remarkably, staggeringly similar…).

Anyway, today I’ll be 37 weeks and we’re going to attempt a version. They have about a 60% success rate of flipping the baby. If it’s unsuccessful, they’ll schedule a C-section. I think I’m a good candidate for the version because baby is still relatively small (about 6.5 pounds), I have had one normal vaginal delivery, and I have a very high threshold for pain (I’m looking at you, unmedicated birth). Things working against me probably include the fact that if she is truly breech and this is her head up here in my stomach, then she’s been that way for a really long time and might be resistant to change.

This point in the pregnancy has brought a few changes for me. I stopped my progesterone suppositories and WOW. I now realize it was like having PMS for 5 months. My poor wife. She told me a long while ago that I was so much nicer during my first pregnancy, and I’m so much less nice this time. She’s totally right. From a combination of stress (worrying I’d have another preterm delivery), exhaustion (parenting AND pregnancy insomnia), and hormonal imbalance (thanks, progesterone), I’ve been a real witch! I stopped the progesterone at 36+4, even though I was supposed to continue until 37. Three days won’t make a difference, and I want to try to relax my body as much as possible to try to help baby to flip. The next day, I felt oddly optimistic when I woke up. The day after that, I felt like a new woman. I feel more loving, motivated, inspired, etc. I previously had been attributing my feelings this pregnancy (huge, bloated, lethargic, achy, tired) to being less active and being more tired. But honestly, at 36+6, I feel better than I have for months. Who knew?

I’ve started mixing in a few yoga poses to stretch my pelvis and make room for baby to flip. It feels amazing. I can now see and feel that I’ve been so hesitant and so tense for the last 36 weeks, fearing I might do something to initiate labor, that I’ve been so stiff that it’s no wonder this kid isn’t head down. I fully believe that my mentality of fear and apprehension, the weeks of doing nothing more active than walking the dogs, and my desperate pleas for her to stay high have inadvertently influenced her position, from a tense torso and uterus if nothing else. I’m doing every thing I can think of to relax, encourage her to flip, and tell her it’s safe to think about coming out now.

Wish me luck on the version. If I don’t go into labor or have an emergency c section, I’ll update afterward.

Yay. It feels good. It feels almost as though we’ve “made it,” even though we technically have six more days to go until term.

Throughout this pregnancy, baby girl has been head down in my cervix, just like her big sister was. At 30ish weeks I panicked and ordered a bunch of preemie clothes, because I could feel her pressing down and I woke up after a hard night of crappy sleep ending with me barely being able to hoist myself out of bed due to hip pain. Vagina lightning was frequent as my cervix stretched. My vagina ached and felt swollen, like my insides would soon come falling out.

Some days she would pull back up and give me great relief. I could feel her butt rise up above my belly button, especially when I was lying down, and I knew that her head shifted over just a few inches to the right of my cervix. It was comforting. On those days, walking was easier, and I had so much less pain. On those days I was optimistic that she would stay put for awhile longer.

The interesting twist in this pregnancy is that she now seems to have taken up residence in this alternate position. At my 36 week appointment, they hoped to see her head down in the delivery position. Well, she’s close, but she’s not there. She’s “sort of” transverse, which means she’s laying diagonally across my abdomen. Her head is still down, but it’s not centered and her legs are not crunched up next to her butt, they are off to my left a little bit. I’m relatively certain that she continues to shift back and forth, sometimes lining herself up on my cervix and other times pushing a little more to the side.

My gut instinct is that she will get to the right spot at the right time. I think on some subliminal level she *may* have heard and responded to my desperate pleas to get away from the exit, stay in, and stop pressing her way out. And frankly, my desire for that remains for at least another week! I want her to stay in as long as possible! It would be a-okay with me if she didn’t engage until 38 or even 39 weeks, but you know modern medical standards…they want everyone in the ready position by 37 weeks!

What happens next? Another ultrasound on Monday (36+4) to see if she has shifted. Before that appointment I’ll be walking and doing stairs all morning, because she tends to shift down if I’m more active. If she’s lined up, then we just wait for labor. If she’s still off-center/diagonal, we schedule a version to manually attempt to move her. If that fails, we schedule a cesarean. Next week will be an interesting and exciting week!

For now I’m just basking in the comfort that I feel after making it this far into pregnancy. I really hope we have another 3-4 weeks to go, but if she exits any time now, I know we’re in a very manageable place.

This feels like a bit of an accomplishment, though the reality is that I haven’t done anything special to get here. Unless I count shoving a progesterone suppository up my va-jay every night. But here we are, entering the land of “Late Term Pre-term.” If you’ve ever had or been faced with an early delivery, you know that this land is a good place to be. At this point, baby would need some help with the basic life skills: breathing, eating, and regulating temperature, but the long-term prognosis is very good. After a few weeks of supportive care, you typically head home with the equivalent of a term newborn.

Personally, while I feel confident that we’re going to make it at least a few more weeks, and I also feel comfort that the baby will probably be fine, I have some stress about the logistics of a baby coming this early. The stress revolves mostly around being an effective parent to a NICU baby and a toddler, splitting my time, missing time with one or the other, etc. A secondary factor is my work – I’m still not ready to be out of office – but I can more easily manage that issue. I’m just going to remain hopeful, knowing that every day that passes WITHOUT labor means another day that we’re not juggling a bi-local life.

The stats were all fine – my blood pressure was just slightly higher than my normal, but my heart rate and other vitals were fine. Baby’s heart rate was also just a tiny bit high, but she was dancing around inside when they used the Doppler. I hadn’t gained any weight in 2 weeks, which is funny because I haven’t changed my diet or activity. I’m dilated 1 centimeter – up from a “fingertip” two weeks ago, but not abnormal for a second pregnancy at 34 weeks.

Now we press on to the next appointment. Ironically, it is scheduled for 35 weeks and 4 days, the exact date I delivered my daughter, with the doctor who delivered her. Coincidentally, Christmas Eve. It will feel like an accomplishment to pass that milestone as well. Crossing all my fingers that we get there!

I have started having a lot of self-imposed guilt about my parenting limitations as a result of this pregnancy. I’m typically a very hands-on, active parent, but my physical (and sometimes mental/emotional) limitations are showing through. In an effort to avoid resentment and future rivalry, I’ve been very conscious about not blaming my inabilities on the baby. However, EVERYONE ELSE does that for me. The daycare provider is clearly perturbed that I continue to carry my two year-old to the car every afternoon. Is it comfortable for me? No. Are those 20 steps going to hurt me or the baby? Highly unlikely. Is it important to my daughter that she feels like I’m accommodating her and meeting her “needs” as we reconnect after being apart all day? Yes. So I’ll do it as long as I feel like I can. My mom has a similar tendency, and even my wife was making comments about how Mommy can’t do XYZ right now until I asked her to stop. When I am limited (exhausted, aching, or having braxton hicks) I try to say things like, “I can’t pick you up right now because my hands are full, but I’ll pick you up when I have a chance.”

I was really worthless last night, because our daughter wanted to play doctor (as she does nearly every day). She requires her patient to lay on the exam table, which is really a folded quilt on her floor. I honestly STRUGGLED to get down onto the floor. I could NOT bring myself to lay on my back, because I typically have more contractions when I do. I’m much more comfortable on my side. This was not suitable for our young practitioner, so I got kicked out of the “hospital” and the next patient (Mama) was called in. In my defense, we had already been to the grocery store and swimming lessons, and I was at my physical limit. This was also AFTER I attempted to sit on pillows on the floor and play Lego (also ouch). It felt crappy to fail at playing her favorite game.

Needless to say, I’m at the uncomfortably large stage of pregnancy. I’ve gained a lot of weight and I’m uncomfortable. I don’t look all that huge, but I’m soooo out of shape. This is definitely the worst shape I’ve been in my entire life. My resting heart rate is like 80’s or higher (normally I’m down by 60 or lower). I just cannot get enough oxygen in my lungs so I’m a constant mouth breather, and my hips and back ache. I know this is all normal, but I don’t remember it as much from my first pregnancy. Maybe it’s because I was working out 5 times a week, or maybe it’s because I had more time to lounge around and not parent a toddler. I really, really want this baby to stay in for 3+ more weeks, but I have also already started dreaming of my post-pregnancy days when I’m not carrying around all this extra weight!!