Everyday, at least twice a day, I get an email from Kyle that typically has no words in the body of the email but the subject line reads, "No baby?" and I press reply and just respond, "No baby." I wonder sometimes if he ever thinks I'll reply with, "Yes, baby...you missed a good show." Either way, that's all just to state up front that in fact there is still no baby (clarification: there is still a baby, you just can't see him yet). But, just like anything else in life, in order for something to become habit or routine (second nature, if you will), you have to be proactive and practice that behavior, no matter how uncomfortable it is, so that it slowly becomes normal.
That, my friends, is the point of this post. Practice, Practice, Practice.
We had the 38 week appointment yesterday. All was pretty routine. A little progress from the last appointment so that was good. She also was able to tell he was, as the Phd's call it, Sunny Side Up ("SSU"). For those less educated, SSU means that although he is head down, he is face up rather than face down, face down being the natural position for delivery. I didn't ask too many questions about it all (I mean, why ask questions to your doctor when you can just go home and google it and read about every terrifying thing that can occur b/c he's SSU so that you live in more anxiety the next week and a half), but the doc didn't seem concerned in the slightest and so long as everything else is okay I can still deliver normally. In fact, I read up on it when I got home and the baby can still turn at any point, even during active labor before he comes out. Sometimes the doc can even turn them as well (I shall go no further with this thought for fear of causing any visuals that people don't wish to have at the moment). The little man and I had some talks about this in the evening as I also read when they do come out SSU, labor is typically a little/lotta more difficult for mom and it can also make recovery a little/lotta bit more painful (see Note above how Google is the devil).
The doc also pushed around a bit on the belly and thinks he's measuring about 7 lbs. Although I would be content with that, I don't hold much faith in the estimate b/c let me tell you, nothing of what the lady was doing was scientific in the slightest. In fact, I just kept imagining it was probably extremely irritating to the baby (I would compare it to the idea of being put in a washing machine) who's in there going, "Oh yea?!?!..and for that I shall stay put another 2 weeks." Thanks, doc.
Other than that. All is typical. Our snow day on Monday was wonderful as Kyle and I could be home together. At one point Kyle came up to check on me and I had mentioned I wanted to go shovel the driveway to get it cleared before it got icy again at night. He clearly started to panic and was throwing on winter clothes and telling me that I should NOT be shoveling driveways at my state and he would go do it. Yet, my snow pants (i.e. his wind pants) were already on and I managed to get out the door before he did. As I started shoveling he quickly arrived to the scene and removed the weapon from my hands. I'm no fool though as I realize this baby isn't coming out by me just sitting around, and before Kyle could count to 5, he turned around again and found me with a rake cleaning off the cars and continuing to clear out the snow. He shook his head in disgust and politely reminded me that the nurse has called our baby defiant on numerous occasions and why it was he wasn't surprised.
I leave you with a photo of Daisy and her snow-mate. They really were best friends on Monday (until Daisy chewed off his nose - oh well, fun while it lasted).
What club, you may ask?? The EIGHT POUND CLUB, Baby! Whoop Whoop!! Mom and Dad took me to the doc on Wednesday for my 2 week check-up (if you're doing the math, you are correct that Wednesday is actually 2 days shy of my 2 weeks and TODAY is my actual 2 week birthday). Anyway, the rentals undressed me down to my skeebies and I tried to tell them to keep my wet diaper on as that would weigh more but no such luck, the nurse caught us -- so, they carried me to the scale and I did all I could to force out a pee (or poo) but I had nothing left. Turns out I didn't need any wet diaper though and that scale rang true at 8.3 lbs. BOOYAH---a week and a half after I arrive and I go from 7.68 when I left the hospital to 8.3. Who has two thumbs and likes to eat?? THIS GUY. Mom and Dad were so proud of me and the doc said I looked fantastic (I'm not positive but I don't think it was coincidental that he said that at the same time as he was checking out what I was hiding in my diaper..ahem). You may think this picture is a yawn picture but it's actually the face I have when I go to eat---you don't get into the 8 pound club with a closed mouth people. Oh, and so the big deal about me hitting 8 pounds is that I don't have to annoyingly be woken in the night anymore. To celebrate, I slept from 9:30 pm to 4 a.m. last night. Who's a rockstar? It's me, It's me.
So, some other news of the past few days. Those white socks you see in the picture above, yea, they are 0-3 months but already are a little snug. Mom's been noticing the lines they leave around my kankles, I mean ankles, when she takes them off. So, today after one of my feedings I told her NO MORE SOCKS and proceeded to pick out my newest feet warmers. Check it, ladies. ROAR!!!! These things rule b/c A) They keep my huge feet warm (which, at a size 14, isn't an easy task). B) They are low-tops so they look good with almost any outfit. C) The lions also serve as a scare tactic to strangers when they try to approach me. I just kick off my blanket and BOOYAH, I'm throwing lions in their face and they run every time without fail. It's awesome.
Dad and me had our first heart to heart the other day. It was good, I really got a lot of things off of my chest and he listened well. He gave me a few pieces of advice, which were good. I took notes of what he said..it went something like this, "Its his place to impart, one day some girl's gonna break my heart and ooooh, ain't no pain like from the opposite sex, gonna hurt bad but don't take it out on the next, son. Throughout life people will make me mad, disrespect me and treat me bad, let God deal with the things they do 'cause hate in my heart will consume me too. Always tell the truth, say my prayers, hold doors, pull out chairs, easy on the swears, I'm living proof that dreams come true, he loves me and he's here for me..." or something along those lines...I don't totally remember.
Lastly, pretty much I'm 2 weeks going on 4 months. This afternoon after a feeding I had my normal awake/activity time and then about 24 minutes later I was showing signs that I may be tired. So, as every mother would do, mom picked me up out of the boppy that I was chilling in and carried me into the nursery to grab a blanket. She laid the blanket in the crib so I could be swaddled with every intention of picking me right back up and soothing me with the latest stories about celebrities (how many times do we have to talk about why John and Jen didn't work out??), but as soon as she laid me down on that O' so soft and luxurious blanket I decided that sleeping in arms is for 2 week olds and I was ready to nap in my crib like big boys do. I mean, who WOULDN'T want to sleep in here. It's like a king's palace with all this room to stretch out, I feel like I just upgraded from a single to a California King!! Also, I get to sleep with two monkey's staring at me from either corner. How could I NOT feel safe in here with those guys watching me! So, nap I did and I'm pretty sure mom stood over me for like 30 minutes as she seemed to be breathing heavier than I was. I don't think she's going to let me sleep in here at night though---between you and me, I think she's got a LITTLE case of the ole' separation anxiety. Wouldn't you???
