Due Date #3


Nine pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long and ALL the hair

Four days overdue, we went to the hospital for our scheduled birth. There wasn’t any rushing — we woke up early, made breakfast, loaded the car and left.

hospital bag for dad

My room wasn’t quite clean when we got there so we got a later start than we thought, but, in the end, that wouldn’t matter.

Thirteen hours of pitocin and (medicated) back labor later, I was wheeled into the operating room for a C-section to remove surgically the stubborn mule that is my son.

He didn’t want to come out, you see.

My birth plan had one thing on it: I don’t want a C-section.

Turns out, he was a little too big for me to birth him conventionally — nine pounds, five ounces with me measuring normal the entire pregnancy. Too big and face-up — hence, back labor.

So I had a C-section.

I didn’t get the birth I wanted, but that didn’t matter in the end either because I got something a hell of a lot better than the birth that I wanted.





I got Henry.


40 weeks pregnant full term

Due Dates

Forty weeks is  full term.

Forty weeks is 10 months.

Forty weeks is a long time to be pregnant.

I’m 40 weeks today.

According to fancy pregnancy math, today was my due date. Little one didn’t show up today — perhaps because my due date was pushed back two days at my 20-week anatomy scan — or perhaps because half of all pregnancies run long.


After Week 39, I am ready not to be pregnant. Not that I want to rush him, but I wouldn’t be too made if he showed up before Monday. I don’t feel good. Five days of cramps, nausea, discomfort, sleeplessness and random pains… I’ve been sitting against an ice pack until it’s not cold anymore. Plus, I’m fighting a terrible head cold — or just the major mucus bomb that is my body prepping for labor and delivery.

Sorry, it’s a thing.

Luckily, my doctor doesn’t want me to be pregnant too long after my due date either. It’s not safe for the baby. Now, my baby has a scheduled birthday if he doesn’t show up on his previously assigned birthday via induction. (That’s due date No. 3.)


Who’s excited?

Yay. Me.

I’m not terribly excited about being induced even if I am super excited not to be pregnant. Induction might not work, but I’ll have to have the baby after starting the whole process so… a C-section might happen.

I don’t want a C-section.

Here’s my birth plan: I don’t want a C-section. Everything else is fair game.

I’m going to stay positive though. He’s either going to come on his own (on Monday) or induction will work, and I will not have to have a C-section.

To encourage his arrival, I’ve been thinking baby thoughts and nesting and telling him aaaaalll about it.

newborn clothing hand-me-downs
Newborn clothes are stupid cute.


His room is pretty much done. I haven’t hung the shelves, and I’m probably not going to hang the shelves before he gets here. He’ll be fine without shelves for a while.


I’ve got diaper and breastfeeding snack stations in the living room, nursery and next to my bed. Granola bars, nuts and trail mix to munch and bottles of water and boxes of juice to keep me hydrated. Diapers, wipes and burp cloths for him.

freezer meal prep ingredients

crockpot freezer meals

I also prepared 13 crockpot meals to consume during my maternity leave so I can spend all my time with him — not worrying about feeding myself and my husband.

And we installed the forsaken car seat.


hospital bags packed
My hospital bags are packed, too.

I’m a planner, folks.

But my little one doesn’t seem to care that I’ve made a lovely home for him. He seems pretty content to enjoy the first home I made for him. (Seriously, every time he moves, it feels like he’s just getting more comfy. Like snuggling in.)

It’s like he doesn’t know how many adorable onesies are in his drawers or how many tiny diapers are spread throughout my house or how many times I packed and repacked his hospital bag.

I’ve been telling him.

He’s not listening.


Three due dates for one baby. I’ll let everyone know when he gets here.


Pregnancy symptoms by trimester

I am 39 weeks today, and my due date is just nine days away. I’ve already had a serious conversation with the baby — making sure he knows that he’s supposed to come out in nine days — not before, not after. Nine days.

Considering he speaks no language and understands nothing, I’m not sure how effective our conversation was…

My doctor told me that — if the baby didn’t show up in nine days — we would discuss eviction notices. He’s not allowed to stay in there for too much longer than 41 weeks. Too long and the risk to the fetus outside of the womb increases.

So I continue to let him know that he has nine more days of cushy womb life before he has to come out and join the rest of us.

When he does come out, I’ve been told I am going to forget about all the awful symptoms I suffered during his time in gestation — so I’m going to tell you about it now. (I need a written record of how much I don’t like being pregnant so as not to suffer it again.)

trimesters of pregnancy


“Sick and tired” is an accurate description for the first trimester of pregnancy. The most unfortunate feeling I’ve experienced is being nauseous without the ability to cure myself of said nausea — meaning vomiting didn’t make it go away.

Holding my breath, cursing the baby, TUMS… Nothing made it go away. Just coooonstant nausea and dizziness. Occasional vertigo.

Super fun.

I was nauseous for months, and then, suddenly, it went away. I was one of the lucky ones. Some women suffer from nausea and vomiting of pregnancy for the entire pregnancy.

I don’t wish that on my enemies.

I only had reprieve from the epic nausea when I was asleep… and, y’all, I could sleep.

Baby building is hard work, especially in the first trimester. You’d think because you’re still small that you still have tons of energy to… you know… exercise, do the things you’re supposed to do to keep yourself and your fetus healthy, move, breathe, exist.

But, no.

You don’t.

busy being pregnant ecard

Any and all energy diverts to building baby parts, and you don’t have much energy to spare because you can’t eat anything — it’s all gross — or you just throw it up.


Speaking of eating… there’s a long list of stuff you’re no longer allowed to consume, and that list is not limited to coffee and alcohol. Oh, no.

Deli meat.

Hot dogs.

Certain cheeses.

Under-cooked eggs.

Not-all-the-way cooked meat, such as cow or venison steaks.

I’ve never wanted red meat or a cold sandwich more in my life than when I was told I couldn’t have them.

Add to the list you’re not allowed to eat the foods you simply no longer can eat. For me, that list included: leafy greens, especially spinach — hork; salmon, and all fish for a little while; chicken on the bone; eggs; mushy food, such as yogurt; and any food with a strong smell.

Guess what I could eat…


ALL the sugar.

I wanted ice cream, cookies, donuts (more than I usually did), chocolate, candy… the list of sweets I suddenly wanted goes on and on and on.

I had no idea cravings and aversions would be so intense.

The first trimester of pregnancy, in my opinion, ranks as the worst trimester in whole. (However, the final weeks of pregnancy rank as the worst time ever. Again, my opinion.)


Many of my first trimester symptoms disappeared in the second trimester. I was no longer (always) nauseous; my food aversions lessened — though I still can’t eat salmon; and I got some energy back.

Instead, a brand new fleet of symptoms attacked — the worst of which was whatever the hell my hormones were doing.

Other than wreaking havoc on your body, pregnancy also does a great deal of damage to your mental and emotional well-being.

cried at work today ecard

I do not know how to explain the brand new feelings I got, but, oh boy! Were they a trip.

Sadness about nothing, epic pregnancy rage, hyperactive happiness — and that was just my morning.

Add to that fun-filled emotional roller coaster the fact that my brain broke. I couldn’t remember anything, especially if you just told it me. I didn’t get jokes anymore. I couldn’t tell the difference between “just kidding” and “take this as fact.”

I got dumb.

Mental and emotional recovery, I hear, happens after the baby is born. Long after the baby is born.

Lucky for me, my brain function returned — for the most part — and my mood swings have swung out a bit. (No promises for that to continue into what they call the “fourth trimester.”)

Physically, the second trimester was less mean to me than the first trimester, but something new and awful did strike.

pregnancy heartburn ecard

I love spicy food. My love of spicy food did not change when I got pregnant. I still really love spicy food. The more burn-y the better!

But spicy food did not love me in the second trimester. (It still doesn’t love me.)

I did not know heartburn before pregnancy. I also did not know there was a limit to how many TUMS you could take in day… I’d never reached it before. The feeling is indescribable. “Burn” isn’t the right word because it’s not a strong enough word. “Raging inferno from hell” is a more accurate description — just centrally located and radiating out from the chest into my throat, lungs, stomach and all the other organs my sweet child forced into my rib cage.

organs moving into rib cage during pregnancy

Have you seen what a growing fetus does to the internal organs of its host? You should. (The baby also causes a great deal of nerve pain in some women. Some women including me.)

The heartburn was so bad it would keep me up at night and wake me up in the middle of the night, but that wasn’t the only thing interrupting my sleep.

Pregnancy insomnia struck aggressively in the second trimester and has not let up since its onset — life’s cruel way of preparing women to function on very little sleep, I suppose.

Shockingly, while I still don’t function super great without sleep (and without nearly as much coffee as I used to get — two cups compared to… like… eight), this symptom hasn’t affected me nearly as horribly as all the other ones.

It’s one thing that I’ll actually need when my son is born — the ability to exist without sleep.

If you were curious, that’s an actual super power.


The first weeks of the third trimester are largely the same as the second trimester. It doesn’t get truly awful until about the last month and a half — and it is truly awful.


Everything does hurt, and I feel like I’m dying.

First trimester symptoms have returned — food aversions, nausea and cravings along with the constant need to pee. Back pain has intensified to levels that cannot be corrected by physical therapy exercises — mostly because I can’t get up and down from the floor anymore. Sleep deprivation is at its highest level with my waking up every two hours — on. the. dot. — to pee or drink water or to adjust my body because it feels like its in a vice grip. Oh, and the swelling.

I have giant hippo foot.

Foot. Not feet. Just one of them looks absolutely ridiculous, but I’ve begun to puff up in my face and upper body, too, so yay.

Snoring is new this trimester, which doesn’t so much affect me as it does my poor husband. I can snore through extra strength nasal strips designed to hold the entire nasal cavity open. (These things are the size of my nose and do nothing.)

My abdominal wall is useless. I have to roll and heave and pull myself out of bed, cars, chairs, etc. I’m sure it’s just my enlarged uterus holding the rest of my organs in my body at this point because abs… no. My cousin said she sat down one day and couldn’t get back up.

That’s how it feels to lose the ability to use your core muscles.

Oh, and I’m constantly out of breath from movements as simple as shifting.

No wonder women inhale spicy food, walk as much as they can (despite the size of their bellies and water-retaining ankles) and drink special teas in attempt to induce labor naturally… early.

pregnancy takes forever

Desperate times call for desperate measures, but even though I feel like I’ve been pregnant for three years, I’m not ready for him to come out.

Taking care of a fetus is way easier than taking care of a newborn — forced sobriety and all. Baby kicks are a comforting reminder that he’s healthy, and I get to carry him around with me all day feeling his baby kicks, rolls and wiggles. I know when he’s sleeping, when he’s awake, when he has the hiccups… When he’s born, I’ll get to see him, but I have to watch him to know when he’s sleeping, when he’s awake, when he has the hiccups. I won’t be able to feel him anymore — and I think that’s going to be so much weirder than when I first felt him move.

All that being said… pregnancy is still pretty awful on the body and the mind, and I’d still like it to be over soon.

Nine days, to be exact.

38 weeks pregnant

A new year with two weeks to go

Happy New Year.

I need a nap.

My husband and I accidentally stayed up until midnight New Year’s Eve. We were watching the director’s cut of Kingdom of Heaven — good movie — and sorting, washing and folding/hanging baby clothes from my sister-in-law.

And then, suddenly, fireworks!

We’re super exciting, folks.

Side Note: My kid has clothes for daaaaaaaaays. Some of the outfits have been through five or six boys; most have been through four (his cousins). I found a “Cool like my Auntie” shirt that no longer applies to me. Ha! I do not anticipate needing additional clothing items until he’s about nine months old… depending on how big he is and how fast he grows.

Staying up late Saturday is not the only reason I need a nap. The holidays have been busy. Family, family, family… work, work, work… nesting, nesting, nesting. And, oh boy, am I nesting.

Annoyingly nesting…

I want everything to be clean, including things I can’t reach or actually clean… like my wet basement — it’s always going to be a wet basement.

I want everything to be organized, including things I’ve already organized… like the baby’s dresser and the baby’s closet and the baby’s everything. I’ve reorganized those things too many times to count, and they’ll never look as nice as they do right now again.

Most of all, I want the nursery to be complete, and, thankfully, we’re nearly there.

baby changing table
Do you see the adorable stuffed animal my mother-in-law got us? It’s a German Shepherd puppy giving kisses to a little yellow tabby kitten!
german shepherd dog and cat
Ivan and Zuzu!

My coworkers threw me a baby shower in October, and they created a beautiful wreath decoration I tried to recreate. In opposition to my Pinterest account, I am not very crafty :\ I’ll have to go back to Michael’s…

nursery wreath
Brown or birch? I can’t decide.
nursery dresser and closet
This dresser will be the death of me…

I still have shelves and picture frames to hang above the dresser, and I have to find something to put the humidifier on top of because IN CONTRAST TO THE PICTURE ON THE BOX IT CAME IN, it can’t go on the floor.


But there are four full drawers of baby clothes in that dresser — organized by size — newborn to three months, three to six months and six or more months. The last drawer is just full of sleepers. With lots and lots of snaps. We’ve got a full closet, too, containing baby clothes I’ve decided are impossible to fold. (Note: All baby clothes are impossible to fold.)

baby clothes hanging in a closet
Do you see the black and yellow Shocker sweatshirt leading the line? It’s got matching pants! He will wear it always and often.

My greatest success? Curtains.

crib and rocking chair in nursery
I went through three different sets of curtains before finding ones I liked.

After two sets of failed attempts at getting curtains to go in this room… I found these pretty white ones from Target. (Not really blackout, though, nice try.) They’ve got a nearly woodland look with a soft twig pattern.



Except for the length…

At 96 inches, these did not fit in the previously allotted space between curtain rod and floor.

Eh, oops.

Luckily, my loving husband handled my near meltdown — I’m pregnant, it’s a thing — with finesse and rehung the curtain rod eight inches higher.

Looking at those compared to curtains in other rooms, I think I prefer the higher rod.

However, any other re-hanging of rods and buying of new curtains will have to wait until the baby gets here… a while after the baby gets here.

Because, after all this, I need a nap.