Day one of intervention

Well, I made the call to schedule us into the hospital tonight. I keep hoping and wishing that something will happen before I get there and labor will start to progress on its own. I hear stories all the time of labor starting the day before an induction. Yea, I keep mentally picturing this happening to me, but, much like mentally picturing my lottery win, I have not been successful.

The nurse is supposed to get me scheduled and call me back. Mr. W has informed work that his FMLA will need to start tomorrow, and then everything will be in place.

I put in a load of laundry this morning, swept the kitchen and laundry room, sat down at the computer to do a little window shopping, check emails, update this little number and then I plan on scrubbing the bathroom, running the vacuum and maybe mopping again. Seems I just can't mop the floor enough for my liking. This is normally something I truly loathe and put off for ages, but this will be the second mop in a week. Part of it is my Mr. Clean mop I bought. I finally splurged on a decent mop and I am so happy to have it. That probably sounds stupid, but I love this thing. It wrings out very well and makes nice controlled mop lines on the floor and I think it really takes up dirt nicely. Something to do with the thickness and density of the mop head makes me happy. Mr. Clean, there's your plug...I will take a check any time you see fit to send one.

I spent some time this morning looking all over for the necklace that Mr. W got me for our wedding day, which I finally found in one of those "safe places" where I tend to lose things. I also put on the bracelet my Mom gave me for my birthday right before she died and I sat on the floor crying because I wish I could talk to her, today. She would be reminding me that she did this years ago with a lot less medical advancement in a base hospital and delivered twins. Not sure what she would have to say about me being induced, as this didn't seem to be a problem for her. I guess none of us were shy about coming out.

I have plans to fix my hair and get makeup on in a bit, since this is something I can plan for as well. You would think I was either going to meet the queen today, or meet my demise, one of the two. The truth is, there is no telling if Mr. T will show up tomorrow or even the next day. It's just not something that I can control but at least I can prevent myself from showing up at the hospital looking like I was drug there by a pack of dogs(which is, incidentally, how I look now).

So I am sitting and waiting to hear back from the nurse about where and when to report.

I guess it is pretty stupid to feel so nervous about all this, but I can't seem to calm down.

I am going to be a mom. Of course, I guess in one sense, I already am, but it gets a lot different once that child isn't attached to you and you can just set him down and misplace him like your car keys or drop him like a dinner plate. Once you hear him cry and know he needs you for something, but you have to figure out what that something is, you take things to a whole new level.

Don't get me started on when he starts walking and exploring and throwing things and asking for money and telling us how we ruined his life. I guess we will have many years ahead of us to take it all with a grain of salt.

Honestly, I think this may be the scariest day in all my life.

Mom, I really wish you were here right now, and to all my other family and friends, I am thankful you are here, because Jen is not nearly as tough as she would have everyone believe.

Day three of eviction

Geez...I really didn't expect you to be this content where you are at my little burnt cookie. I am calling you a burnt cookie, because everyone still likes you, even if you are just a little overdone. I swear this kid is coming out with a tan. The longer he waits, the more I wonder if he will pop out of there with grey hair.

Today is my first day of not working and I am already bored. I would be less bored if there was a baby to take care of, rather than just a baby to speculate. He should be finished with whatever is going on in there by now, but he still won't budge. I walked Target to the tune of 130 bucks last night until my hips and pelvis felt like they would collapse from the pressure. Really, I was in there waddling around, albeit slowly, for probably two hours. I came home and tried moving around a little more and though I had a couple of twinges of discomfort, these are still not contractions. Not a chance. I think I handle pain pretty well, but this is not what I could imagine is pain associated with labor. Just pain associated with a fat old pregnant woman doing a lot of walking.

All my messages are set for work to indicate that I am out on leave, but I almost feel like I am cheating, since there is no baby yet. Granted, after 40 and a half weeks of hanging in there, I should give myself these couple of days without guilt, but it feels really strange saying you are on leave when there is no baby yet. I guess I should get over it, because it looks like he'll be here soon, regardless.

Please, son, show up on your own. Mommy realllllllllly doesn't want to induce. Not that I have no faith in medicine, but I hate to use it when it isn't necessary. When it is, I think it is a wonderful thing! Certainly when I need pain medication, I will be happy to have some medical attention.

Anyway, as for things that do not induce labor...taco bell, walking all around Target, the mall, a pedicure in a massage chair, soft pretzels, soda, coffee, squatting(although it's very hard to get up afterwards), a good lower back rub, a semi-decent upper back rub, Snickers, Reeses Pieces, watching a depressing movie that makes you cry, doing dishes, putting away clothes, and more walking. Everyone who says to walk that baby out has just been lucky enough to start their labor after a good long walk. They come out when they're ready.

Mine still ain't ready.

Well done

Fine, so I like my bacon crispy. I like my hot dogs well done. I like my toast toasty. I guess I also like my children on the well done side.

Today is day 2 of being past due. Today is also the 13th, which is not only my Uncle George's birthday, it is also the other date that I thought this baby would pop out. He started out torturing me with thirteens. Thirteens everywhere, my first two doctor's appointments were both, yes BOTH on Friday the 13th.

His first heart rate was 113 and my shower was on September 13th and there were some other 13s that popped up along the way. His Grandpa's birthday is on the 13th of January, and I'm getting the feeling at this point, that my child wants his birthday to be in January as well.

Sorry son, ain't gonna happen.

He really is the Great Pumpkin and all I can do is wait and try to think of ways to make him uncomfortable in there. Maybe I should start drinking tons of cold liquids. I don't know what else to do. The only thing I can think of is to walk. I will walk walk walk until I can't stand it anymore. Of course, that pretty much means around the block at best, but I will give it a go. I just ate some trail mix, which he seemed to enjoy because he is being a fidget right now. Tossing and turning and poking at my lower abdomen...at least I don't feel like he is stepping on my collarbone, anymore.

The house is clean and if he doesn't make it out soon then Mr. W will have a chance to destroy it again before I give birth, which means I will have to clean again before then and that will make me very unhappy.

*SIGH*

Now starts the approximate 50 something hour countdown until I check into the baby unit hotel to interrupt this kid's playtime. You would think being the big baby they estimate him to be, he might be crowded for space, but I guess not. I must have a very comfortable belly. Lord knows the dog enjoys sleeping up against it.

In other news, in my never ending quest to be comfortable in bed at night, I have driven Mr. W to tell me that he is looking forward to a restful night's sleep on the cot in the hospital. My heart really bleeds for him right now. It isn't my fault that between the dog, the baby and myself we are now taking up an entire half of the bed instead of the quarter that I am usually allotted.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

Dear Mommy's Little Boy,

Today Mommy went to the Doctor and we discussed ways to interrupt your nap time and play time if you choose not to play along nicely.
You are a day late now which is OK with Mom, and even a few more will be no problem.
Let's talk about what happens if you choose not to come out of hiding.
The doctor told Mommy that tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday are all fair game. Now, let's talk about this more. Since you are showing no sign of popping out, they may have to give something to Mommy to make her start to dilate. That means her cervix has to start opening so that your giant pumpkin head can fit through it. This usually does not happen in the course of 5 minutes. I also hear it may not be lots of fun, and involves some contractions.
Then, after waiting overnight for something like this to work, we then have to check and maybe or maybe not start Mommy on a drug called Pitocin. This will make Mommy pretty uncomfortable, and still may not be enough to move you along the way that we would like. They will give me more and more until Mommy is in a lot of pain and you start moving from where you are. This will cramp the quarters where you are sitting right now. Essentially, we are going to shrink your bedroom and start to push you out the door. Then, all the climate control in that bedroom will be ruined when they break the water and you will be rushing around and trying to figure out where to go at the last minute.
Mommy doesn't want that for you, and if you get scared or confused while this happens, they will just cut a hole in the roof and take you out by airlift. Mommy really doesn't want that kind of drama for either one of us.
All this fun will start Thursday night, as it stands, because your Mommy wants to give you the benefit of the doubt and just assume you are running a little behind. Mommy wrestled with this a little because the schedule she is working with was trying to take into account giving you some time to show up on your own, giving an induction time to work, and making sure you are ready to make an appearance somehow before my doctor is not on call anymore. We like him and think he is pretty smart, so we would prefer that he delivers you as opposed to some random foreign med student.
That being said, you have the next three days to lounge around, pack your things, and start vacating the premises. If not, your Mommy will be torn about whether or not she is making the right decision with this.
If you could please comply with these wishes, I can assure you it will be well worth your efforts and you will get to see the world in a timely manner!

Love, Mom

Thanks for the pizza, Mom, I'm good where I'm at

So I made it to 40 weeks. Starting tomorrow(in about 3 hours) I am now overdue. Every stinking hour that goes by after midnight tonight shall be tracked and rent shall be charged from this kid's first paycheck.
You hear me, Tanner? It's time to come out.
I am going to start a list of all the things that do not induce labor.
Everyone seems to have a great idea about this, so I think I am now able to speak freely about what doesn't work. After all, once you pass your due date, there's not much to do but wait, anyway.
All my little tickers have run out now.
No big chicken hatching out of this egg. My floating baby ticker from "Parents" magazine ended in a pretty uneventful "zero days to go". Yeah, right.
My cute little turtle ticker that was crawling across the beach just hid in his shell. I haven't even looked to see what happened to the butterfly at the end of this page, but I can tell you it isn't a baby.
I am tired of hearing that first pregnancies go late. Not true. Some people just go late, and I am one of them. There are plenty of first time moms out there that had their baby before they hit the 40+ mark. I hate them.
I am glad that I am not "sick", don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean I feel great. I feel like dogsh*t to be honest. I know things could be worse, so I will just let it go, but let me say that I want him out.
Things that will not induce labor...mopping the floor, moving boxes around, sweeping and bending, doing laundry, cutting hair, eating spicy food, bouncing up and down, taking a walk, taking more walks, walking through a crowded festival to find as many snacks as humanly possible and eating those while walking more. Sauerkraut pizza, sauerkraut on a hot dog, sauerkraut in general, chocolate brownies, and putting the top on a Wrangler. Another thing that doesn't induce anything but drama is putting on one of your big sweatshirts that doesn't even fit now that your Great Pumpkin is the size of a preschooler.
Come out, Tanner...Mommy will give you a cookie.

Nope, he ain't here

So it is now the end of the line and baby is not showing any sign of popping out for a big hello. I am still thinking he may show on the 13th. In fact, that would be great, because I would prefer not to have to induce labor, but I would also prefer not to have to tell anyone I am eleven months pregnant.
I told Mr. W that in a couple days(at 40 weeks), in reality I could say I am ten months pregnant. If every month were February that would hold true.
Today I ate peanut butter toast, cookies, green onion chips, cheese crackers, a whole mess of healthy choices. I also worked what was supposed to be "my last day". I have a feeling I will be reporting in on Monday, anyway. I told my boss I was in for Monday and Tuesday, but after that, count me out. I just can't make it through any more appointments because I have to run and pee every 15 minutes. It makes for pretty useless meetings because someone can only keep my attention as long as the urge to "go" is not distracting me. That gives them all of about 5-10 minutes to get out everything they have on their mind. I also have pregnancy brain, which basically renders me useless at any problem solving, troubleshooting, attention to detail or pretty much anything else that doesn't involve just random chit chat. Basically, everything that makes me useful to an employer is starting to shut down at this stage. I could have stayed in bed all day today, but I didn't. I could have, though. And I bet I would have enjoyed it.
If my elusive pumpkin baby wasn't enough to get me down, the weather is lousy right now. Cold, rainy, ugly, and just generally kind of depressing. Not that I would expect much more out of October, but I could use one of those cheesy Brady Bunch "Sunshine days" in my life right now.
So I guess I may as well go ahead and start selecting new foods to represent the baby in the days ahead.
I am thinking of a burnt cookie, a spotty brown banana, a raisin and prune. Let's see how many of those end up getting used.
That could be the fun game that keeps me sane next week.

Its the great pumpkin, Charlie Brown

So my baby is now officially being called the Great Pumpkin. He's starting to become that mythical creature that rises from the pumpkin patch every Halloween to give candy to all the good boys and girls. And I am Linus. I am Linus, sitting in the patch on November 1. Really everybody, I promise, the Great Pumpkin will come...he'll be here next year.
Yes, I am at the very end of my rope. I just lost it. I want to kill Mr. W just because everything he does and every day he spends not pregnant while I am pregnant makes me want to strangle him. Everything he doesn't do that I ask him to and everything he does do that I don't want him to makes me want to make him sleep out in the car until it is time for the baby to get here.
I am losing my mind.
I cried twice in Hallmark today. Once while picking out a sympathy card for a co-worker and once while picking out a toy for my baby. Both times were because they made me think of my mom, but that doesn't mean much to the people standing around me in Hallmark and I cried again telling Mr. W about my crying spells while I was talking to him on my way home. Then I cried again when I showed him the baby toy. Yes, I am completely spent.
I am not even enjoying eating at this point because I am sick and tired of doing so much of it. It is pretty sad when being able to reach things on the ground and scrub out the bathtub or even mop without a backache are the things I really long to do. I obviously want to see my baby, too. I am done with being patient. It has been 39 long weeks and I am right about to trip the odometer to 40 with nothing to show for it yet. Not even much cramping. Nope, it is just like there is nothing happening in there at all. Every once in awhile the Great Pumpkin wiggles a little, but that about covers it.
I would like to say I will be back on to post about how the labor went, but I have a feeling I will be back to complain about having the only baby in these families that just doesn't want to come out and see the world.

Dear Pumpkinhead

Well, Mommy is growing herself a pumpkin. We went to see the doctor today and had the ultrasound we were waiting for. He's 8lb 8oz by their best guess at this point. That sounds like one cooked baby to me. Time to come out, now, Mr. Tanner. You are big enough. Daddy thinks it would be great if you were 10 lbs. Mommy disagrees and thinks that 8 1/2 sounds just about perfect. There is room for 10% error either way. That means you could potentially be a little over 7 1/2 or you could be a whopping 9 something at this point. In any case, you have baked. Your head is screwed down into Mommy's pelvis and is making it very difficult to walk at this point. It is also putting unbearable pressure on my bladder and while I love nothing more than going pee every 15 minutes for the sake of my little boy, I am ready to stop anytime.
I had a contraction on Saturday night and it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. This is how I know that it was a contraction and not something else.
That was an hour before the Ohio State game. Seems that when you realized you wouldn't have time to make it out for kickoff, you decided to stay right where you are. Witnessing this event made your dad chuckle. I promptly informed him that would be one way to get thrown out of the birth of his first child. He did quickly apologize and let me know that the look on my face did it to him. He told the doctor today that I looked like I got my "tail pulled". That's pretty accurate. It came from nowhere and it hurt like something I am not looking forward to. I can tell you that. The thought of dozens more of these coming in short waves is painting a very ugly picture right now.
The doctor said you will be coming out by next weekend, so the longest I will have to wait is about 11 days, give or take. The cook-o-meter says you will be done in 6. I suggest you show up before then because every good cookie is just slightly soft when it comes out.
Sounds like regardless, you will have a few fat rolls for us to pinch. Fat babies are the best, so roll on out of there, chubs, so we can get our hands on you.
We got to see your big melon head today and your belly, which look to be about the same size around by the pictures. They said that is normal, so good job with that.
Your little thighs are all cramped up and look like they could use a few feet of space around them. Right now you are working with millimeters so again, I offer you all the space in the world if you will only vacate your current quarters.
If you do decide to stay put a bit longer, I only ask that you do not appear between the hours of 8 and 5 on Wednesday. Mommy is taking her boss to meet some clients that day and is thinking that would be a little much for her to juggle all at once.
So the good news is that we are thinking you may be able to come out without gutting Mommy like a fish. Actually, the only thing that isn't good news is that Mommy is not dilated, which means you will show up when you please. I would like to say that you get that from your father, but neither one of us is the most punctual, so I have to take some of the blame, there.

Single digits...still no Tanner

Ah yes, at last, instead of waiting for it to only be 3 months, 12 weeks, 9 weeks, blah, we are down to single digit days before this little man has truly overstayed his welcome in Mommy's belly. He has been pretty quiet so far this morning after being a small tornado in there the last few days. Perhaps he is getting frustrated, too?
Last night was the big hospital tour for Mr. and Mrs. W, followed by a trip to the Chinese buffet that had me up in the middle of the night in tears. I am not even sure what did it. I guess the garlic. I really didn't eat much that was exotic. Some pot stickers and won ton soup. A few pieces of chicken, crab rangoon and a spring roll. Oh wait...the spicy mustard. That had to be it. I can throw back some hot mustard, but this was really hot. Even Mr. W agreed and he doesn't think that much is spicy, so I know it wasn't just "pregnant me" talking. I put a ton on a spring roll, took a bite and about lost my breath. My eyes were watering. That had to be it. The mustard is guilty. It actually tasted a lot more like wasabi than mustard.
So the hospital tour is the real subject today. Let me start by saying it was probably not a bad idea. It didn't take long, they showed us where everything we might need will be, gave the rundown on what you can and can't do, visitor info, rules for "Dad"-which is basically not much, showed us where the natural birth people, c-section people and epidural people go and the temp nursery. The one thing I managed to retain is that we do not allow anyone without a yellow badge to take the baby. The one thing Mr. W retained is that there is a bar open on the corner that serves food. He also retained the fact that they want me to walk in from the garage while I am in labor and not be dropped off. Sounds very pleasant. It better not be pouring rain or this new mom will be pretty unhappy.
We also found out that Dad can give the baby his first bath right there in the room. We can actually have a nurse give him instructions on this. Maybe he will be more open to taking instructions from a medical professional. Sounds great to me.
I just can't wait to watch him try to scrub off some "tar" poop, too. I think Dad will also need diapering instructions from the nurse. Yep, having someone else tell him how to do some of these things correctly is just about the most ideal situation I could have hoped for. Once we get him home, of course, all bets are off and I can see Mommy handling 95% of these tasks, but again, it's good for him to know how.
So our group was fairly small. There were a total of four couples. Mr. W and I were both pleased that we were the younger half of this group, even at our ripe old age of over 30. They gave us plenty of material for discussion once we were out of the building, too. Couple A was the youngest of the group. They probably were in their early to mid 20s. I couldn't help but be amused as you could certainly tell that this was not a planned pregnancy(no rings, the guy looked like his dog had just died...there are ways of telling), and what do you know? They are having twins. Girls, to be exact. The girl let us know that even though she is due next month, she is 3cm dilated. I now also have a visual picture of her cervix, so that's helpful. I also hate her because she will probably beat me to the finish line. I think these must be small twins, though. She really didn't look all that big.
Next we have Couple B or more specifically, couple B and their 4 year old. Mom looked like she was probably about my age, maybe had a year or two on me. Probably younger to be honest, since she already has a kid to make her age. Mr. W, however, was a good bit younger than this father to be, who looked like white Urkel. Pretty much a goof. Mr. W swears they are Jewish. Not sure how he came to that conclusion, but fine. They are having another girl. They already have one that doesn't pay attention, talks a lot, climbs all over stuff and wanders off without her parents in a new, strange place. Good luck to them.
Finally, we have Couple C. Jackpot. When we made it into the garage, we immediately found out that we both thought they were grandparents when we walked in. Mr. W had them pegged at 40 and 45, I was thinking 45 and 50. Somewhere in between was probably most accurate. This woman is due in 5 days and the sooner they get that baby out, the better. I can't believe they haven't induced her, yet. Good Lord, where do I start? Dad looked like a new grandpa, or maybe the father of the most white trash kid you knew in high school. Mom looked like a short frumpier version of Winona Judd. They are also having a girl. Mr. W said she was his mistress, but I disagree. I heard her asking about what they would do with his kids were she to have the baby late at night. You see, they have a certain amount of people allowed in delivery, but after that, when they move you to your room, if it ain't visiting hours, the crowd has to leave. That sounds great to me. This woman was trying to figure out what they would do with his spawns. I forgot to mention that they told us that this is her first and his fourth. He promptly interjected with questions about how many people can be there, do they get the sports networks in the delivery room, and a few other things I tried to ignore. As we loaded into the elevator, I noticed her feet. My feet have swollen, but I have never seen anything like this. This woman had ankles the size of my thighs and only a wrinkle where her heel started. She looked awful and I kept wondering why in the world someone hadn't gotten this baby out, yet. She also told us that she herself is getting jaundice and Mr. Judd told us the baby was 9 pounds. Yep, TMI from Couple C right out of the gates. As we went down the hallway making stops here and there, I heard her panting and gasping for air and realized that despite my hips feeling like they are dislocating, I wasn't winded at all. For that, I was thankful. I was so glad when the tour was over because I didn't have to worry about her collapsing right there.
So that sums up our trip to the hospital and the other couples that we could be. Yes, I was quite proud of who we are when we walked out of there. Only a few days to go(at least, I certainly should hope) and if he isn't here by Monday, we'll get to check out his size and figure out what comes next with the doctor. Did I mention how much I like my doctor? After seeing the Judds and that woman's condition, I can say with certainty that he would not let a patient get to that point. How do I know? Because he told me what he would do to help me out, and I just realized how healthy I am and how healthy this pregnancy is. Does that mean I am wanting to go past my due date? Not really. But if I do, I will think of Winona and know it isn't that bad.

10 more days to vacate the uterus

OK, so we made it to October! What does that mean? It is time for Mr. Tanner to make his appearance. Anytime, any day now would be great. No worries that he hasn't cooked long enough. No worries about not planning on him in September. Nope. Come on out and get ready for some Buckeye football this weekend, kid. Or next weekend. You will not be permitted to miss the following weekend game.
Mommy's pelvis is screaming. It hurts to walk because it feels like I am going to crack right down the middle. He was moving around a lot in there yesterday morning and gave me the feeling that he might be trying to nudge his way down into "the stance". I believe they call it "engaging" but it wouldn't be right if I used an official medical term. Either way, there was more moving around down there than I have felt in awhile. This little guy is getting bigger with every bite of food that I ingest, and he's fighting for space.
Mr. W came with me to the store last night because, inconveniently, Mr. Tanner has waited around long enough for the frost to pop out here in Ohio and his mommy can no longer venture out in public with shorts and capris. I had to suck it up and get some jeans, along with some other things we needed around the house. TP, fabric softener, bags of Halloween Snickers, candy corn flavored gumdrops, all the essentials. I should be set to hibernate until labor but I have pants in case I need to leave the house.
At 9 months pregnant and beyond, a girl just doesn't look right in anything she puts on. I stood and pondered the options last night until Mr. W nearly went into a tailspin. I finally picked out a pair of jeans based on deduction and when we got home, I went to try them out. Mr. W had a laughing fit and I wanted to cry. I should probably explain that the options, of course, are limited. There were 2 kinds of jeans with a full panel available. At this point, I need that panel in case my shirt decides it needs to ride up my giant whale belly. Easy choice, right? Not really. There were a pair that looked absolutely GIGANTIC. Huge, belled out wide legs were not exactly what I had in mind being as frumpy as I am feeling, currently. The other option was skinny jeans. That is an oxymoron for a pregnant woman, but I felt that they would be better suited than the circus tent option so I decided on those. I looked like an egg balanced on two toothpicks. The legs were tight and really fitted to the point where they may as well have been denim leggings. I realize that this is the "in style" to some extent, but whatever happened to classic straight leg jeans? I have to think that the most flattering thing for a super pregnant woman to wear would be something proportioned to fit her in a classic way. I am not "trendy 19 year old new mommy". I am also not ready for "mom jeans". Where does one go to find a conservative pair of jeans when they are ready to explode? The answer is not Target. The sad truth is, I spent about 60% more on that pair than the two pairs I just exchanged them for at JcPenney. Again, I ended up with boot cut and skinny jeans, but at least they are not to the extreme that the highly praised Liz Lange has released for her high end discount store line. I tried them on. They both fit, and much better than the ones from last night. Although I am not looking forward to spending much time in them, I am, at the least, relieved that I have pants to wear out of the house. I will be leaving the tags on one in the hopes that little guy comes out quick and I have an option to return a pair, but if he waits it out until Thanksgiving, Mommy has pants.
In other news, tonight is the night that Mr. W and I head in to the hospital for the "tour". I guess they just show you where everything is, where to go, special facilities for those jacuzzi birth weirdos, and all that jazz. Let me clarify that there is nothing wrong with wanting a natural birth and a jacuzzi birth sounds pretty wonderful in theory. What I can't get past is the idea of crawling into one of those things knowing what has happened in there! EWWWWW. I do not care how much sanitizer is used, how much Lysol and bleach you scrub with or how many toxic chemicals you add, that is naaaaasty. Nope, unless they use a fresh tub for each and every customer, count me out. Hell, I would rather eat a bowl of soup from the litter box than get in someone else's "placenta tub".