A Shell of Myself

I've spent the last hour parked on the couch, staring aimlessly at blogs and trying to meal plan for the week, and my mind is drifting in and out of various states of alertness. It's noon, and I've already had one nap today, and I'm so, so tired. When I woke up from my nap at 9:40 AM (yeah - before 10am and I'd already taken a 40 minute catnap), I realized that (not counting nighttime sleeping), I'd taken two couch naps in the last 16 hours. Awesome. Third trimester - 2, me - 0.

I'm not digging for reassurance or trying to put myself down, but I feel like a shell of my former self right now. Even physically - I look only vaguely similar to how I used to, and I'm not entirely sure it's just pregnancy weight. It's just that between trying to raise a toddler and grow a (very high maintenance) fetus, and try to take care of myself or my husband in any way, there is literally no room in my head for anything else. I just feel so... boring.

I mean, I had a whole post typed up on Ellie's rash this week before deleting it. Because yeah, no one really wants to hear about that. :) At least I recognized that before I bored you all with the details. And honestly, rehashing the story of the most exciting (and draining) thing that happened to me this week (my daughter's mysterious full body hives) is boring even for me.

I want to be more than this. I crave normalcy and energy and having anything at all interesting to say. My sweet husband assures me I'm "still fun to be around," but... yeah - I'm not. I have zero reserves right now. If you asked me what's new, I'd either tell you about what I ate for breakfast (coffee cake. I made it! An accomplishment, before 8am!), how Ellie didn't sleep last night, the stress fracture on my foot which is causing me all sorts of fun walking pain, the new stretch marks on my belly, or that we painted the bathroom. Gotta dig deeper, here.

At least I still watch the news. At least there's that connection to the outside world. But again, current events aren't really a super interesting topic of conversation, when all it really means is that you're basically rehashing the opinions of pundits.

I have this dream, that summer will come, I will have energy again (yes, even with a newborn, I think I'll have more energy than I have now) and I'll be able to slowly bounce back to someone more. Sigh. In the meantime, I'm counting down the days.

Friday Randoms

Without further delay (because I actually started - and by started, I mean gave this post a title - this post at the very beginning of the day), here's a random rundown of what's going on in my head.

• I'm still pregnant. Yay! We were given a minor chance of delivering this week (although, I do wonder - if a doctor says you have a 1% chance of delivering due to a possible complication at 31 1/2 weeks, what are the chances of delivery at that stage anyway? I bet it's at least 1%, but likely much higher) and it proved to be nothing. In fact, I'm so pregnant that even my feet look pregnant. Boy, at the end of the day do I have little sausage toes... 
• All three of our appointments went great this week, and we officially have no cause for concern on this little one's heart. Very happy to hear, and not really surprised at all. We truly felt like this was a case of technology being too far ahead of us, and we were right. Basically, when the problems were initially caught, it was almost certainly because the baby's heart was still in development and "learning" it's job. Both the perinatologist and pediatric cardiologist were pleasantly surprised, and I think they were both looking for scientific reasons to explain why there was such significant improvement. They both asked if I had either started or stopped taking any new medications (nope), or made any other changes (herbal supplements, etc). I honestly told them that the only change was that I've started indulging myself with a small glass of wine with dinner recently (ie, I've had three beverages over the last two weeks) and they both said, "well, keep it up!" DONE. Also? I celebrated with half a mojito with my fajitas that night, and it was so, so good. :)
• We've turned the corner on bedtime for Ellie this week and I am officially no longer rocking her to sleep. She's been successful every day, no tears at all, just happy chatter until she falls asleep. It's pretty hilarious to listen to her talking to her stuffed animals and wondering what she's saying. 
• She is SUCH a funny toddler - feels her emotions deeply. When she's upset, she's very, very upset, and then minutes later she's joyfully exuberant and full of happiness. I've heard this is very normal, and it's such a trip to watch her fluctuate between these extremes. At least we know when she's in the throes of her sorrow, she'll be happy again in three seconds.
• My husband is finding tons of projects to do around the house, and it's awesome. Some of our friends recently moved and the buyer of their old house was/is planning on demo-ing the whole home. So, we snagged some great items out of their old home, either intended for our current or future place. We got a new bathroom mirror, and we decided today to go ahead and do the removal of our old one. Turns out, the old mirror was both very large and very solid - it wouldn't even crack when he smacked the thing over and over again with a hammer. Eventually, he got the thing down, along with our old light fixture and after a quick trip to Home Depot for paint and a new fixture, he's happily painting the bathroom while I sit here with my feet up. Super excited to see our old, 1986 crappy powder room turn into something a little more modern. (verdict? He says it may be too girly. I think I like it. I need my sister to decide if we've done a good or bad job. Good thing she's coming up this week!)
• Part of nesting for me means wanting my family close to me all the time. I think there's just something primal about a woman nearing the end of a pregnancy to want to have her loved ones close (maybe evolutionarily speaking it's about the need for safety?). 
• I made a pineapple upside down cake on a whim last night, had a small amount, and am now wishing it was a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Oh, the indecision of a pregnant lady
• 32 weeks tomorrow and managed to barely make it to the bathroom before projectile vomiting my breakfast everywhere. Love the third trimester nausea! (Did you know that some women don't get any morning sickness at ALL?? And some women's goes away after the first trimester? I don't believe it...)
• Pictures from the week:

Sweet friends having a snack. 

31 1/2 weeks

Hey, baby!

Beautiful afternoon at the park. Believe it or not, it was snowing when we woke up...

Low, Moderate or High Risk?

So, we found out several months ago that this baby may have a tiny little heart issue, which is most likely just a derivation off the normal curve, but still within acceptable. At that time we were told that we should go back at 30 weeks to have the heart checked again, and make a game plan from there, depending on what we find.

At our appointment two weeks ago, we found that while the initial heart issue has improved (not gone away entirely though), it seems the heart may be compensating slightly and has some small weaknesses it's presenting on the right side. The perinatologist also found another issue (related, and possibly the cause of the first issue, I believe? You try to ask all the right questions but then walk away with some information gaps) which again, is likely not a huge cause for concern, but could cause more problems which would result in immediate & premature delivery.

While we are choosing not to worry about these issues too much (as our peri said - if they were worried, they'd monitor me even more closely), our more hands-off approach to monitoring this pregnancy has shifted slightly (at least right now it has. If we find out that the problems have resolved, we're back to low-risk), and we're finding ourselves with appointments stacked on top of one another. For example: this week I have another Fetal Echocardiogram with the Perinatologist, yet another (and a consult) with the Pediatric Cardiologist, and a standard checkup with my midwife. It'll be a busy, medical week.

So, here's the rundown, in layman's terms, as best as I can capture it (so there will be some mistakes, I'm sure).

The initial scan found mild Tricuspid Regurgitation. This means that the tricuspid valve, which is located on the right side of the heart and is supposed to be a one-way passage of blood, is leaking a bit of blood in the backwards direction. It was leaking more 10 weeks ago than it is now, but it's still not operating 100%. It could go away entirely by birth, or remain the same. Further (at this time), the perinatologist explained that she saw some "sporadic increasing velocities of blood flowing through the ductus arteriosus" - indicating that the ductus arteriosus may be narrowing. What's the ductus arteriosus, you ask? Good question - it's basically a blood vessell in the heart which only exists in a fetus. It's purpose is to bypass oxygenated blood away from the lungs (lungs don't need oxygen when the baby is in-utero) and back to the heart. It shuts down after birth, once the baby starts breathing, because at that time the lungs require the oxygen. So, to see it narrowing in a fetus indicates a possibility that it could shut early (during pregnancy) and the lungs would start to get too much blood. She gave us a 1% chance of this happening, and assured us that she really isn't concerned, but was being "ultra conservative."

Apparently, this desire to over-diagnose is in line with the national push to diagnose any/all potential fetal heart issues (when there's a big issue which is caught early, obviously the baby has a better chance of survival). We are choosing not to worry about these issues - our doctor seems very confident that both issues are essentially just outside the bell curve, but still within "normal." Of course, we'll be diligent and follow up according to their recommendations. I'm not feeling anxious or nervous about early delivery, but accepting the very slim chance that this could happen (1%. Slim.). If it happens, we'll deal. The good news is the baby is measuring big, just in case we deliver early.

Tomorrow we start the week of appointments, and I'm expecting tomorrow night I'll be back here on my couch, and not recovering from giving birth prematurely. I'm blogging about this now though, on the off chance that things don't go as I expect, and the next post is "surprise, I had a baby!" and everyone wonders what the heck just happened. :) In the meantime, maybe we should get down to getting some names finalized, just in case. I don't want my poor preemie baby hanging out in the hospital as "baby no-name"...

Middle of the Night

The thing I like best about the middle of the night is sleeping. The thing I like lease is being up with racing thoughts. Why is it the latter always seems to dominate the former? It's 6am now, but I've been awake for quite some time, awoken from yet another anxiety dream and unable to go back to bed.

There's a lot I could (maybe should?) be worrying about these days - from North Korean nuclear capabilities to the national deficit, the rapid rise of hate groups, threat of natural disasters, etc, etc. For some reason though, at 3am, it seems more pertinent to my brain to stress out about needing stamps and what's for breakfast. How strange that this is how our minds work.

My anxiety dreams have all been similar lately. I'm packing or trying to get out the door for something, I'm running late, haven't showered, don't have what I need - something along those lines. Last night in one of several dreams we had tickets to some theater event, and I needed to go home, take a shower and get ready, but I was stuck wandering aimlessly around the grocery store. By the time I realized what time it was, we were already late, so I rushed home only to realize that we didn't have childcare lined up for Ellie. Then, the dream turned to anxiety about leaving her with a neighbor she didn't know, and the details I needed to spell out for the neighbor: where we keep the diapers, what to feed her, if she'd need to go down for bed how to get her down, etc.

When I woke up, it was instantly obvious what my brain was doing to me. Of all the stresses in my life right now (and there are many), the thing I can't seem to rationally figure out is what we will do with Eleanor when I go into labor. What the rational part of my brain says is that it will be okay and she will be watched. Heck, she'll probably have a blast with whoever she's with, and she certainly won't remember it long term anyway. What the irrational side says (rather, dominates) is that I don't want to leave her with someone she doesn't know too well for too long, I don't want her to feel lost or confused, and I don't want to do anything which will interrupt her perfect world of happiness. What if we're gone and someone else is watching her and it's the middle of the night and she wakes up for me and someone else is there? What if someone else needs to put her to bed for the evening and it's a disaster? What if she's trying to communicate using her words and phrases only Peter and I know, and she ends up being sad?

This is one of the only things I've really found myself overly emotional about. It has actually driven me to tears - a rare feat - when I think too much about leaving my baby girl and our existing life, and coming home to a whole new world. I want to do everything I can to minimize the anxiety for all of us, but it looms over me in the middle of the night when all my other thoughts have simmered down. There's a very good chance that this labor will be very fast (I'm thinking we probably won't have more than a couple of minutes to head out the door), and that possibility coupled with the idea of not knowing what time of the day or how it will present leads me to an inability to get a plan in place. PLUS, it seems that the people Ellie knows best will be at the hospital (or en route) - meaning we don't have the luxury of counting on my mom or someone else to just step in and take over from where we left off.

Sigh. It'll be fine. I know it will. Worrying doesn't help, I know this much, so I need to make some loose plans and then let it go. Heck, I could end up with a scheduled c-section, which makes all this for nothing (but, a whole new set of worries there!).

With that - I can hear birds chirping. That means I've made it through the night and now it's morning, AND the grocery store will be opening soon which means I can go get stamps (okay, and donuts...) and cross that off my list. Hooray.

My girl(s?)

sweet Ellie hand

Liminal Spaces

There was a course I took in college in which we discussed the concept of liminal spaces. It was probably just a day or so of discussion (who can remember that far back? side note: I've been having dreams nightmares lately of being back at school, and something is always "off." Last night it was that I couldn't find my schedule, couldn't get to the first class in time, etc. Why are those dreams always so anxiety-producing?), but it stuck in my mind.

The idea of a liminal space, in a nutshell, is that it's a threshold of sorts, an in-between space and time in which we exist temporarily. Our professor equated it to a doorway, I believe. I've felt like this has been my permanent residence for so long now, I can hardly remember what it's like to not live in the in-between time. I've been thinking about this lately.

It seems like we're always in a time and place where we're halfway looking back, and halfway looking forward. I think having young children is especially conducive to that sort of mindset. Being nostalgic for what was, while dreaming about what's coming. Even on a micro-level. It's thinking about bedtime while looking forward to nap, or being hyper aware of what comes next in the day, so you can try to be one step ahead of the kid. As a new parent, it seems you always hear two phrases from more experienced ones: something along the lines of "cherish every single moment, they go so fast" or "oh, just wait until [xyz thing happens]." Both of these tend to rub me the wrong way. The first puts this unattainable pressure on otherwise frazzled, but love-drunk new parents: you should enjoy every single wonderful moment, if you don't, you're sure to miss out on the beauty which is parenthood. When did every single moment become wonderful? Last I checked, there is a lot of crap we wade through (albeit willingly) as parents, and even with recognizing that some moments are pretty shitty, we still understand why time and time again, people put themselves through this experience: overall, it's totally worth it. But to put pressure on "enjoying every moment" is unrealistic and undermines the emotions of the person who is thinking "this sucks right now." The latter "just wait" statement, to me, seems to especially point out the new parent's naivety, but almost in a condescending tone. Like, "you're happy now with your precious offspring, but wait until they stay out past their curfew with their questionable friends - then you'll question why you ever wanted to do this at all." What's the point of that kind of warning? And both these phrases seem to miss out on simply being present, in the moment, good or bad, not looking backward or forward. 

Pregnancy makes me feel eternally stuck in this limbo. I'm counting down the days and weeks - they make the end feel so far away, yet I'm acutely aware of how quickly this time has already gone.

Here's my bottom line though: I think allowing us to sink into this kind of thinking gives us an excuse for not fully living presently in the moment. If we're residing in this in-between space with one foot behind us and one foot in front of us, aren't we missing the moment of now? I really hate that realization - knowing how fleeting our time here is, how can I be better at being fully present in all moments? How can I appreciate the past and  prepare for the future, while still being fully present (and not resentful) of living in this fleeting moment, which so often carries the uncertainty of what might come?

Working on improving over here, one second at a time....

Guilt

Here's the definition of Guilt, according to the internet (which is always right!)

Noun: The fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime.
Synonyms: fault, blame, sin, crime, culpability

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I can't even count the number of blog posts I've read which are about Guilt - worse, Mommy Guilt (ugh, that phrase sends chills up my spine!). It seems like such a theme wound throughout conversations among friends who are mothers, in the blog world, the internet, and how many hundreds or thousands of parenting books. There's tips about how to handle your guilt, women bemoaning their guilt, or shamefully admitting that which makes them feel guilty. Or, articles written by mothers who are proudly sharing something which perhaps they "should" feel guilty about (says who, again??) but either don't feel the guilt, or are "embracing the guilt."

Here's my secret, and I hope this post doesn't come across the wrong way:

I don't believe in Mommy Guilt, and refuse to participate in the Guilt Game.

I am nowhere near a perfect mother. Some days I wonder if I provide her with enough stimulation - either through myself or the experiences which I allow her to have. Sometimes I give her Mac & Cheese for lunch and no, it's not organic. I ask her to play a lot by herself while I take care of other things around the house, or while I sit still to regroup for a minute or thirty. My mom laughed at me while we were on the phone the other day and I asked my 22 month old daughter to "back off please." Nope, I'm not perfect, but guess what? I do not feel guilty about that. I don't necessarily feel proud if it either, but I admit it because it is what it is. I have 24 hours in a day, and I have things to do (and sometimes, that involves catching my breath, or putting my feet up for a second so I can continue to be effective). I do do plenty of great things for and with my daughter, and I work hard to provide her with childhood which is on the neutral to happy end of the spectrum, and I know she's a happy little girl, who knows she's adored by me - and at the end of the day, that's what matters to me. What else matters to me is that I do the best I can do, and my standards are entirely my own. I don't need to compare my choices to the choices of someone with an unlimited income, a naturally larger reserve of energy, or a bigger house, or different priorities, etc. I play the game I've been dealt, and you should too!

I will admit that I feel guilt when circumstances call for it. I've shamefully felt like retaliating against my toddler when she's difficult. That's wrong. I've snapped when I shouldn't, and said things and used tones I shouldn't use. I'm not saying guilt has zero place in our stash of emotions - but I am saying it should be properly felt when the circumstances call for it. Like, being mean out of frustration. Saying a white lie because it's easier. Not when we make choices we make out of love, or out of necessity given the circumstances.

I can't tell you the times I've read about or talked to mothers who say they feel guilty because they work, instead of staying home, which they might prefer sometimes. If this is you, ask yourself why? Feel sad if this makes your sad, or frustrated when you feel stretched so thin you can barely breathe. But guilty? For providing for your family when you've made this decision (I assume) based on circumstances which only you know? You worked hard for your career and are proud of where you are and don't want to give it up? There should be no shame in that. Or, your family depends on your income? Then you are doing what needs to be done - and should never feel guilty. I've read about mother's who feel guilty for not meeting their breastfeeding goals, but then proceed to talk about why not. Their supply didn't come in, they needed to take a certain medication which was incompatible, they couldn't pump and had to go back to work. Or mother's who wanted to cloth diaper but their baby had thrush so badly it could only be treated with disposables. Again - I understand disappointment in not meeting a goal, but that shouldn't be confused with guilt for trying hard and having circumstances prevent it.

Motherhood is hard. It's hard to feel pulled in a million directions, or to have so many balls in the air that to address the most pressing means dropping another. Prioritizing stinks sometimes, but when we deprioritize something important, it's because there is something more pressing that needs our attention. It's hard to have to choose between two choices which both suck (do I make my baby cry-it-out, or continue down the path of waking every hour to soothe baby back to sleep? On the one hand, making my baby cry is just god-awful, but on the other, I can't be so sleep deprived that I'm an ineffective person/partner/parent!). I imagine it will be very difficult to have two kids crying, both who need their mama, and I will have to choose which one to tend to first. Making tough choices shouldn't make us feel guilty - it should make us feel like parents who understand our limitations given the circumstances, and who acknowledge that sometimes we are forced to do things we don't want to do.

Confession: I wish I could enroll Ellie is some fun extracurricular kind of activities sometimes. She'd love more physical activity and she's so smart, I know that she'd benefit from additional stimulation outside the house. But that's not in our budget. So the responsible choice is that we pay the bills we have and save what we can, and anticipate future expenses of having a second kid, and that's that. I can't feel guilty for doing what's right for my family. Another confession: I rely on people for help a lot right now. I ask my husband for help all the time, and regularly depend on my mom to watch my daughter. I'd love to be more self-sufficient, but I just am not right now. I'm in the throes of the third trimester of an exhausting pregnancy, and I need help, and I can't let myself feel like I'm committing a sin. These are my limitations right now, and I do the best I can. Another: I am almost entirely physically unable to do anything active with my high energy girl right now. She'd love it if I could take her to the park, or anywhere fun, but I really cannot. Putting my body through that kind of activity is so hard right now, and I pay for it with days of pain. And that makes me entirely ineffective as a mother and wife - not to mention that I won't be a martyr with my body for some park time. I can sit with her and read her books and play with apps on my phone and snuggle her, and that's going to have to be sufficient for this period of time. She knows she's loved. I'm doing my best.

My wish to whoever is reading this is to find something which made you feel guilty today, examine the guilt, and then let it go. Unless you smacked your kid because you elicit joy from seeing your baby cry, I highly doubt what made you feel guilty is cause for true guilt. Give yourself some grace - this journey is tough, and you are doing the best you can, and your children know they are loved.

Off we go to IKEA

Last night was a Very Very Rough night. When you capitalize first letters, it's because it's extra true. After spending the day with Ellie while Peter helped some friends move, my body was on fire in a way that's hard to describe, but if I had to give it a shot, I'd say it felt like you'd imagine it would if you were 7 months pregnant, up 40 pounds (yes, already. geez), with a stress fracture on top of your foot which had recently been re-agitated, swollen ankles, achy back and heartburn like a dragon's. Anyway, I was tired, and cranky because it was Sunday night, which means Peter had to watch Walking Dead, which is one of two shows of his which I not only dislike, but actually passionately abhor. The other is Game of Thrones. If you want to know why, please ask. I digress though.

Ellie would not fall asleep last night to save her little life. Man, she was wound up. Add to her excitement of playing with dad before bed, and a recently kick-started campaign to get her to fall asleep on her own, and she just wasn't having it. From wide awake and screaming in the crib, to a failed attempt to get her to sleep next to me in her new twin bed, back to the crib, back to the bed, etc. Fail - on all parts, especially mine. Eventually she fell asleep and eventually I did too (although not for many, many more hours and a couple of tylenol later). At some point in the night, she was up for an hour or so, wanting to play blocks and screaming at me once again for putting her back in her crib and refusing her attempts at playtime. (Side note - eventually Peter woke up and said he'd take over. Guess what happened? By the time he got out of bed and to her door, she'd fallen fast asleep. Stinker).

But, here's the real reason why last night was Very Rough. We have an 18 year old crib that she sleeps in. And no, in case you're wondering, it does NOT meet today's safety standards, and yes, it does indeed have not one but two drop down sides. And yes, an exposed steel bar thing with edges which could easily and significantly cause damage if a baby fell face first onto it.  It's also LOUD and creaky, and every single time she rolls over, it wakes me up with it's creaky springs and rattly sides.

(side note - wow - we sound like awesome parents for letting her sleep in this thing for the last 21 months. But really, aside from the exposed metal, it feels pretty safe. And the rails don't spontaneously drop because they're metal and not plastic because it's old, and therefore actually safer than the recent ones which have been the cause of all the problems.)

Our bedroom shares a wall with Ellie's, and her crib is up against the shared wall. So, last night, with all her tossing and turning, and all my tossing and turning, I decided I was DONE with the old crib, so at 9am today, I announced my plans to schlep the whole family to Ikea as soon as we could get out the door, to buy a new crib. And, when I announce plans in the way I did today, along with displaying the lovely dark bags under my eyes, my husband knows to just say YES.

So, off we went, to get a new Ikea crib. They're small, cute and inexpensive, and I like Ikea. Peter's not totally sold, but he does have thing for these little gingery-graham cookies (KEX cookies) they sell, so he was game. Ellie thinks it's playland, so she was game too.

Problem was, once we got there, Peter vetoed the crib I had in mind. Needless to say, we walked out of there with the lamest reason a family could think of to make such an exhausting trip: two boxes of KEX cookies, a roll of chocolate cookies for Ellie (who demanded, er, requested nicely "MORE!" after sampling one) and a 6pack of cinnamon rolls for me. Oh yeah, and a $.50 hot dog (also for me) because, who can resist? Fifty cents, people! Plus, mama needed a little protein snack on the way home.

(side note - lest you think I'm all about only junkfood, my lunch when I got home was my newest pregnancy love: marinated tomatoes and cucumbers in a little rice vinegar & olive oil, and a tiny bit of chopped feta cheese stuffed into a whole wheat pita. Yum!)

So there you have it. Quality family time in a big, overstuffed, maze-like store, for $10 worth of cookies. Oh, and as I type, I can hear that damn crib creaking, signaling Ellie's imminent waking from her nap. We'll be off to Target this afternoon to buy one of their, Peter approved cribs. Thank GOD.

Slacker

I've been a super blog slacker lately. Scratch that - a life slacker in general. Man, I'm really, REALLY getting used to having a second set of hands around lately. Makes it a whole lot easier to give in to my ultimate daily goals: sit as much as possible.

To be fair, the sitting seems to be as much a necessity as it is a luxury right now. Also to be fair: I'm growing a person. Standing for too long leaves me with swollen, throbbing feet, which are guaranteed to not only keep me up that night, but ache all day the next day, as well as a myriad of fun Braxton-Hicks contractions and pulsing varicose veins. Man, is pregnancy HOT. This one is definitely rougher on my body than the last - I think having a 30lb toddler to lift and lug around is aiding in that. I've started limiting picking her up, which is  sad for me. When I start to get sad about that, my brain starts to go rapidly to a more depressed state, in which I cannot control my thoughts of "oh my god, what have we DONE? how will we have a second baby?!" and feeling sorry for sweet little Ellie, whose life is about to be radically upheaved with no warning to her, and what if it makes her feel neglected or left behind? I try to quickly remind myself that more babies = more love and a sibling relationship is probably the best thing ever (for most sets of siblings), but... it's hard when my thoughts force me to confront these kind of fears. Normal, I know, but still unpleasant.

I'll be 29 weeks this weekend, which means around 11 left to go. We've talked to our midwife about the likelihood of a super quick delivery, which does slightly scare me, but mostly is a comfort. When it comes to labor & delivery, fast is nice. Who wants to be in labor for 66 hours? ;) (dig at my bff, who endured this torture of prodromal labor, followed by eventual progression, fetal distress, and emergency section. Yeah, I'd avoid that if I can, for sure!). I broke down and purchased my first "major" baby purchase - an Ergo Baby Carrier - yesterday, but justified it because the thing was on sale at Target (defective box, FTW!) for 35% off. YES. Still pricey, but I hear they're the best, and I plan to try to avoid buying a double stroller for a while and instead wear this baby as much as possible.

Really, not much going on these days, hence the radio silence over here. It's been a good month though, and I can't believe it's already March.

Off to eat some birthday cake. Nope, nobody's birthday, but.... what can I say? I'm gestating.