… I hope that’s true, because I don’t have time to type any words!!! I promise that the Birth Story is forthcoming… it’s a good one!! In the meantime, just so I don’t lose all my readers again…
Here’s Charlie!!!
He’s a keeper!!
This is Daddy reporting in that……
Charlie Campbell — 7 LBS, 15 Oz
Was Born 1:44 am, May 9th 2010.
Story to come. But for now a few pictures.
Kenny and Cooper and I went out for dinner with my parents a few nights ago, and we settled on my favorite sushi place, even though my menu options are a bit limited, at least for the next 7 (!) or so days. We were the first ones there, and it was one of those rare nights where both boys not only behaved perfectly, but ate everything that I put on their plates, from the edamame and sticky rice to the chicken katsu.
Halfway through dinner, Kenny started yelling, “Ahoy!” every time someone came in. I laughed as soon as I realized that he was hearing the traditional shouts of “Irasshaimase!” and translating them into a word that he knew. Cooper joined in not much after, and a fun time was had by all.
I ate as much wasabi as humanly possible, but the old, “Spicy foods trigger labor” hogwash didn’t work. Waa. Next on the list? A massage. And a little jumping rope…
I went to the grocery store today and now as I open the fridge looking for a bedtime snack, I see that all of the expiration dates staring back at me are past my due date.
Whoa.
Kind of funny to see that my pregnancy will expire before the milk and the meatloaf mix…
Not much new to report. It’s all “hurry up and wait” for me at this point. Most everything I needed to do is done. I’m sure I’ll panic and think of 8 projects the day before my date that I need to do Right Now, but at the moment, most of my To Do list involves compulsively trying to keep the laundry at bay. Boooooo-ring.
I’ve been talking to Cooper at night about the baby coming, and though he doesn’t make it obvious that he understands, I hope that some of it is sinking in. He does comprehend much of the goings on around him, and I don’t want the baby coming home to be a complete shocker.
He is so funny, too, with the things that sink in and make impressions on him. Every night when I’m tucking him in, we play a little game where I tell him all the times I love him, and he will answer with, “more!” “I love you when you’re silly; I love you when you’re running around; I love you when you’re spilling milk on the floor…” But there is one that he always tells me before I can say it: “You love me when I cry.” It’s so funny, that that is the one he reminds me of. Then when the game is done and I’m about to leave, I always say, “Mommy is in Mommy’s room. I can always hear you, and if you need me, you call me and I’ll come right in.” Tonight he beat me to it: “You always hear me all times!”
I can hardly believe that in 9 days, he’ll be a big brother!
May Day
In the Historic district of the town where we now live, there is a tradition of hanging May Day flower baskets on your front door or porch, which are judged by the local gardening club. Judging aside, it’s a gorgeous tradition – how fun to walk through the streets of town when every door is adorned with bright bouquets?
Kenny wanted to participate with me, so we each made baskets, and hung them on the front corner of our house:
Kenny’s basket was a beach pail, decorated with Lightening McQueen stickers and colored pipe cleaners (and the scraps of my ribbons) and filled with herbs and grass from our back yard. Mine was about a half and half combination of flowers from our garden (azaleas, cockles, lilies, mint stalks and some random purple weeds that were really quite pretty) and some bought from the garden club’s flower sale (tulips and snap dragons).
We were pretty proud of our artistic endeavors and even hid in the window to watch when the judges stopped by our house. Kenny was beyond ecstatic that he received a ribbon. (I didn’t tell him that it was “just for participating” because he was in the kid’s category… how could I think to take away from his exuberant joy??) I got a little “thank you for your entry” postcard on mine, but no ribbon, and Kenny shared my disappointment with an unusual level of empathy for a little guy his age. The best part of it all was that he and I went out to breakfast together, then spent a half hour walking hand in hand on the streets surrounding ours to look at the entries together, just the two of us. It redeemed the strife of the day before.
Mayday!
The second half of the day was way too busy… Kenny had a t-ball game, then we all went over to our old house, which we are maintaining as a rental property, to do some work. After three hours, we were all exhausted, the boys were feeling ignored and Casey’s incisions were aching. We got home just in time to shower so that Casey and I could go out for a date night – something that we’ve not done nearly enough in the past few months. The boys’ favorite sitter arrived and they barely noticed that we left, and Casey and I walked the town, “detoxing” from the tough afternoon, before settling at an outdoor cafe with live music. We had a fantastic time – we were admittedly new people by the time, dinner was through – both of us recharged and relaxed. We even waited 45 minutes in line for ice cream cones by the docks (silly, yes, but boy was it good!!) before walking back home and going to bed.
That’s were the fun ended. I woke up at 1 am with contractions so strong I was clawing at the sheets and sweating like I was running. I tried to walk around, but found myself every 7 minutes or so clinging to the wall, scratching and moaning in pain. Casey woke up to the sound of my sobs and gasps for breath. He was ready to go to the hospital, but I decided to take a shower first. After 30 minutes under the hot water, the contractions dulled enough that I could breathe again. I crawled weakly back to bed and fell into a fitful sleep, waking up every 15 minutes or so until morning.
I decided to go to the hospital and get checked this morning, even though the contractions had nearly subsided. Casey took the kids to the park. When I got there, they hooked me up to the monitors to check both the baby and the contractions, and when the doctor came in, she looked at the tape and said, “Well, you’re definitely having legitimate contractions. Let’s see how far along you are.”
Bitter, bitter disappointment ensued. “Wow. You’re completely closed! I can’t believe it, but you haven’t even really started labor…” She was entirely sympathetic, but I burst into tears as soon as she left. How can I endure this much pain and have NOTHING to show for it??? The nurses were sympathetic, too, and told me to “hang in there” and “don’t hesitate to come back if they get worse.” I have been in a pout ever since. Get worse? I was trying to eat the plaster off the walls, I was hurting so bad last night. I’ve been in labor before, and I tell you, nothing I felt when I was in labor with Kenny hurt worse than what I went through last night. So not fair. If I can’t trust my own body, what can I trust???
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