So today's the day

(Allegedly. They won't start the induction until evening, so who knows. And what if we run into a problem like with Tres, where they say ha ha, never mind, no induction for you today -- call back tomorrow?)

Anyway. Supposedly Cuatro will make her debut tonight. I expect her to come quickly after things get started, as each of my previous labors has been faster than the last. I have faith that things will go smoothly.

And yet.... It's hitting me what a BIG FAT LIFE CHANGER this is. Right now? Our life is what it is. We've got a routine. Tomorrow at this time? We'll have an ENTIRELY NEW PERSON. Not just new to us, but new. In the whole history of the world, there has never been a Cuatro before and it'll be my (/our) job to take care of her and fold her into our family and fit her into our previously comfortable routine. That's a big deal! And a big responsibility.

I couldn't sleep last night. I lay awake thinking, maybe this isn't so bad with her on the inside. I'm fairly used to the GD diet restrictions by now, and I'm probably healthier for it. I eat lots of fruits and vegetables, much less processed food.... Sure, I have elephantine swollen feet, but I can live with that. I don't mind fielding random strangers' questions and dumb comments about my huge belly. Maybe Cuatro should just stay there.

I have easy labors, relative to what I understand other women go through, but I still don't like the process. It's not fun. It hurts at the end. You lose all modesty. You get no rest even after all the work is done.

That's another thing I was thinking late last night: They ought to have a half-way house for recently delivered mothers! Particularly ones with other young children. After all that work -- the nine months of nausea + exhaustion + discomfort + carrying around a bowling ball and then the tough job of getting said bowling ball out -- it would be nice to be able to rest for a few days. But where are you going to do that? Not at the hospital; they'll wake you up every few hours to poke at you. Not at home; the new baby will need to be fed every two hours or so, and in my situation there are three other little people who'll continue to have needs as well. No rest anywhere. So I propose a half-way house: Leave the hospital, go to a lovely spa-like place (with highly qualified nannies and nurses to handle the bulk of the baby care 24/7) for just a day or two to recuperate and gear up for the tough battle ahead, and then go home to face the real world with renewed vigor. Genius, right?

Yeeps.

I'm excited, really. Newborn babies are sweet. They're floppy and small and nothing bad has ever happened to them; they've never done anything bad to anyone else (unless you count the GD and elephant feet). They're perfect. They're a world of possibility wrapped up in a tiny pink package. This will be a wonderful change, however challenging the transition.

I guess maybe I should pack a hospital bag.


~RCH~

Friday ramblings

"Wake up, little feller!" I hear Tres calling from the other room. She's playing with her dolls and stuffed animals. Where does she learn words like feller? LOL.

She's been obsessed with nightmares lately. She asked me repeatedly what a nightmare is, and for the first day or so I'd answer her by saying it was a bad or sad or scary dream, but nothing real -- just a story that your brain tells you when you sleep. Nothing that can actually hurt you. It became clear to me that explanation didn't work for her, though; she talks about nightmares as if they're tangible monsters: "Can a nightmare come in and get me in my nap time, too? Is he blue or green? Dooz he talk?" So today I switched tactics: I simply told her that nightmares aren't allowed in our house. They can't come in. I made a rule. This seems to be working much better so far; she seems relieved. I'm crossing my fingers that tonight's bedtime will go more smoothly than it did the last two nights!

She's three now, by the way, that Tres. I don't have any pictures of the festivities. For one thing, I've been insanely busy; DH's coworkers were very sweet to throw me a baby shower on the afternoon of Tres's birthday, so I had to really scramble to get the house clean and the family party ready after leaving that. I felt a little too harried and stressed to worry about digging out my tripod and camera! But more than that, even, I wanted to be present for her birthday. I don't take a lot of candids of my children because I don't know how to be both the photographer and the in-the-moment mom (can it be done?) and I'd rather be the mom for those milestones. But I'll need to start testing out the natural light in the parlor and dining room soon, so I'll see if Tres will let me take formal birthday portraits next week sometime.

She's such a sweet little kid. She's had to come to most of my doctor's appointments lately (three visits this week, wheee!) and she charms the doctor and nurses and office staff each time with her sly smile and precociously large and clear vocabulary. She got a haircut last week (mostly just a trim so we can still do fancy styles, but she insisted on bangs -- oy) and one of the nurses complimented her on it. "Fank you berry much!" Tres said. "And I like your pretty shoes." Then, "Could I have some Smarties, please? I like to be smart!" How could anybody resist that 26-lb sweet potato? She racks up the Smarties left and right at those appointments, ahtellyouwhut.

And the appointments. *SIGH!* So many doctor visits, so much time wasted on everybody's part! I understand that with three complicating factors (old lady; clotting disorder; gestational diabetes) they need to manage their legal risk by seeing and documenting my progress thoroughly. But I'm more than the sum of those three facts, and when you look at me as an individual, and this pregnancy as an individual pregnancy, it's clear that everything is FINE. Each of the growth ultrasounds has been normal. I've never had an iffy non-stress test. My blood sugar is well controlled by diet. I have no complaints, no bleeding, no clotting, no errant contractions (not even those faker-baker Braxton Hicks!), no nothing. So why all the continued fuss?

I had hoped to set an official induction date at today's appointment -- I'm 36 weeks today, just three weeks away from the vague time frame we had previously discussed -- but my OB wasn't in (her father died; so sad) and the nurses just handled the testing and sent me home. I'm so, so tired of being pregnant. Still, as slowly as each uncomfortable individual moment passes, the days seem to fly by anyway. Three weeks will be over before I know it!

How will I handle four children? Seriously! Four! What have I gotten myself into?

At least wee babies are cute. I have lots of tiny little outfits and itty bitty socks and a large inflatable duck to use as a baby bath when Cuatro gets here. These things excite me, lol.

*SIGH.*

Three weeks-ish. Yeah.


~RCH~