I have Succeeded!!!

I thought it was fitting to post this on my pregnancy blog - even though I'm no longer pregnant. I found out with Jack that boobs will get smaller than they once were after breastfeeding. They did. I was small to begin with, probably not even a size A (bless my heart). Now, after stopping breastfeeding with Ben, I have successfully completed my mission to have THE smallest breasts in the United States, if not the World.

Aaaahhh, the reward for being "sick all day"!

Benjamin George Pruden ("Ben"), born March 17th, 2009. Ben was 7 lbs. 7 oz. and 20" long.

Ben is just so precious and sweet. His little face just begs to be eaten up. He looks just like his brother, Jack. I can't wait to have the time (and energy) to put together a new blog for the brothers. It can't stay, The House that Jack built.

My c-section was a success. Sam and I actually talked and joked through the surgery until Ben came out, then I was all happy tears. I didn't feel a thing (unlike my section with Mr. Jack). St. Mary's Hospital also gave me the best stay as a new mom. All the nurses and staff were fantastic and everyone that works at that hospital seem to like their job. I can't say enough good about my experience. Below are just a few pictures. More to come...

Baby Day and What I woke up thinking. . .

I woke up several times through the night (not unusual) but at 5 am, there was no going back to sleep. I laid in bed and this bible verse came to my mind and I wanted to share:

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Phillippians 4: 6-7.

If you read this blog today, please keep me and baby boy in your prayers. Thank you.

The last Belly Picture - really.

Sam asked me what I wanted as my "last meal". (It sounds like I'm going off to be executed). I wanted shrimp fra diablo and boy was it yummy. My last meal before giving birth would actually be tonight, but Sam couldn't guarantee that he could be home in time to cook for me, so last night was the night. Memom was here, too. Jack is doing really well with Memom and has been off-the-charts sweet and so well-behaved.

Mom is practicing taking pictures and uploading them on my computer so she can send them out when the baby is born. She did a lot of practicing last night. These are pics from her camera.

Last belly shot . . . probably

My mom was wanting a more recent picture of my belly so I had Sam take one. It really doesn't do it justice because I'm sitting down. I think it looks even bigger while standing. I wanted to make sure my face wasn't in the picture.

What I've been feeling like:

Swollen in my face and hands. I can still see my ankle bones. Fat, fat, fat. Waddling everywhere, especially at night when I get up to pee. Upper, left quadrant back pain (feels like my back is on fire). Contractions continue, more vigorous and consistent at night. The last two days I've felt as though I can't get enough sleep and have been light-headed. Irritable.

A Saint Patrick's Day baby. . . maybe

I went to the doctor this morning and was placed on the schedule for March 17th at noon. That is three weeks from yesterday - yikes! I still have alot to do and I better get to doing it as the doctor feels I will likely go before then. Since I'm typing it and saying it out loud, I hope that means it doesn't happen (going early).

Jack goes to the Doctor with me

My doctor appointment was changed to the afternoon, so I had to take Jack with me. He was well prepared for the outing with books, some toys, coloring books and crayons. In the waiting room, he was just dying for this lady in the waiting room to talk to him. She didn't speak English (as I heard her on her phone). He was doing everything in his power to get her attention. She never reciprocated (what is wrong with people?).

So I drilled it in his head that he has to do exactly what I say and must be quiet when the doctor is talking to and examining me. The first thing I have to do is pee in a cup for them to check my urine. He goes with me and takes a pee as well. He's fascinated by my peeing in a cup. He says,

"Maybe when I go to the doctor next time, I can pee in a cup!"

Then, after being an angel, so good and sitting in his chair after it's all over, he says:

"Mommy, when I'm a big boy and have a baby in my belly, maybe you can come to the doctor with me and sit in the chair quietly." The doctor, nurse and a med student got a big kick out of it. Dr. Peterson told Jack that he could come back anytime he wants to.

Holy Moly

Holy Cow! is more like it. It's been a while since taking any photos of my stomach. While on bed rest, mom got the biggest kick out of how big my belly was, she insisted on taking a picture. I look pale and unhappy but that is because I thought she was cropping my face out of the picture. I would have given a little smile...

This is mom and I on her last night here. She is chewing a cracker and will hate this picture of herself. She didn't want to pose for it in the first place. She is irreplaceable! We love her
See story below for why I was on bed rest.

What a scare!

On February 1st I was walking into church and fell on the ice. The temperatures were above freezing, the sidewalks and roads were shoveled, but lucky girl that I am, hit a patch of black ice on the sidewalk. Instead of my feet going out in front of me, they went backward - resulting in a fall on my belly. I must have hit my left knee on the way down based on the bruises, but I don't recall. I had been holding hands with Jack as we walked and the boy was in hysterics. He was screaming so loud for mommy to get up and be happy, pulling on my hand to get off the ground (God love his precious heart). The door greeter and another man helped me in the van and Sam of course took me straight home. Jack kept crying, "I want to go to church!". I'm not so sure he really wanted to go to church as much as he wanted everything to be "normal", i.e., mommy not hurt. When I get home, I make a call to the doctor. I was having a dull, constant pain in my lower abdomen, but no contractions. . . yet. The Dr. said that I needed to go in and be monitored for six hours based on how far along I am and falling on my belly. So, I'm thinking, we'll take Jack, he and Sam can eat in the cafeteria and then head home for Jack's nap, come back and get me after nap. It didn't quite go that way.

I'm hooked up in the Women's Evaluation unit and Jack once again goes ballistic. He doesn't like the little bed I'm in. He doesn't like the wires and especially the sound of the "baby growling" (the sound of the heartbeat on the monitor). He later told Sam that he didn't want to visit mommy if she was going to be in that little room with the curtain and the baby growling. Hilarious. As I'm laying there and Jack and Sam have left to go home, I start having strong contractions one minute apart. Yes, that is one minute apart. Prior to that, they had told me they were going to admit me based on my uterus being "very irritable". Then blood work revealed that my blood cells and the baby's blood cells were mixed in my bloodstream (indicating an abruption). They started me on magnesium (the worst thing in my pregnancy) and another med to help my uterus relax. The best way to describe the side effects of magnesium is it feels like a bad sunburn from the inside out. It makes your muscles like jello and you can't stand unassisted. I also received two shots, in the butt, of steroids to help mature the baby's lungs - just in case he decided to be born. The contractions slowed to every five minutes, then eventually further apart. I know this is alot of detail. But, if you're reading this, you know me and you know that is the only way I tell a story.

Bottom line: I stay for two nights and three days leaving the hospital with minimal contractions. I am placed on 75% bed rest. Memom the great comes to the rescue once again and takes care of me and Jack for a week and a half (so that Sam can return to work). When I get home from the hospital, my contractions pick up quite a bit, always worse in the evenings. We've been back to the Women's evaluation unit once for monitoring, but the contractions weren't causing anymore progression. I visited the doctor yesterday and she has lifted my restrictions, allowing basic everyday duties, sit-down activities with Jack, cooking. I am not allowed to clean or grocery shop. I am supposed to take it easy. Easier said than done. Today was my first day without my mom (who needed to get back to her life) and it's been tiring. I am sore from doing all the things that she has been doing. Getting Jack up, breakfast, on the bus, off the bus, lunch, etc. Again, I can't put into words how grateful Sam and I are to Memom. The Dr. says that when I reach 37 weeks, I can do whatever I want. I'll be full-term and it'll be fine to go into labor by then.

Memom the Great!

There aren't any thank you cards that can sum up my appreciation for my mom (memom). I am pregnant, emotional, nauseated and tired and she swooped in last week like an Angel on a cloud. She spent four selfless days helping me with Jack, the nursery, playroom, the housework and grocery shopping. She completed one task and was eagerly waiting for another assignment. I want to believe that I will have that kind of energy again one day. Sam and I went out on a date Saturday night while she kept Jack. She did his bath and put him to bed. He gave her a hard time, but she endured happily. I don't believe there is another person in the universe that could match her. What makes me most happy is that she professes to "enjoy it thoroughly".

It keeps getting better

Just a little more of the pitiful me saga: Jack didn't have school Tuesday due to ice(the day of my rescheduled appointment). I had planned to take him with me and then my neighbor called and asked if he could come play while I was at the doctor. Great, I thought. He will be much happier there than at the doctor's office.

After drinking the yucky glucose drink and waiting an hour to have my blood drawn, I'm feeling gross. I see the doctor in the meantime; all is well with the baby. None of my symptoms are of any concern, I'm measuring the right size, my weight is good, etc. I go to get Jack from the neighbor's house and he hasn't been the best boy. On our way out the door, we fall on the icy steps right on our bums. I fell on my ankle and rear. Jack just cried and cried. I wanted to cry and scream some choice words, but with my child and neighbor present, I refrained. My ankle is swollen and my rear and lower back hurt, but again, it could have been so much worse. Oh, and Jack is okay too. Two fantastic days in a row.

I need to feel sorry for myself for a minute...am I allowed?

Despite the fact that I acquired Jack's stomach flu on New Year's eve, I felt so blessed that I had my husband there to take care of me and take over duties with Jack. Jack was cared for and didn't have to be re-exposed (if that is possible) to the awful stomach bug. I was in Lexington when I got sick so Sam brought Jack back to Illinois a day ahead of me. I stayed behind at my mom's to recover one more day. (Bless her heart, she and Don both came down with it as well.) I know the baby is getting what he needs, so it doesn't concern me a great deal that I didn't eat anything but saltines for 36 hours. None of this detailed background is why I am feeling sorry for myself.

I had a doctors appointment for today, 9am, just in time to get there after putting Jack on the bus. I'm cruising along in St. Louis when I see signs that I-64 is closed three miles ahead. I had heard on the news of this closure, but I live in Illinois and don't feel that such matters affect me. WRONG! I have no idea what to do; my exit is beyond this closure. I call the drs. office and some nice young guy, Dave, is trying to give me directions. I get lost. I'm in parts of St. Louis I know aren't safe. I'm having contractions (the fake kind), I'm crying because I'm supposed to have my glucose test first, then see the doctor. I have to be back in Illinois to get Jack off the bus at 11:05 on-the-dot. This young man on the phone is listening to me cry and complain. He's nice and calm. When I think I'm on the right track, it turns out I'm not. I have no family here, no one to get Jack for me if I don't make it back in time. I'm a stay-at-home mom and the only babysitter I know is a 12-year-old girl down the street that goes to school during the day. When I finally find a street that is familiar, I take it (the wrong way) trying to return to the interstate. . . to go home. I rescheduled my appointment and now I have to stress about doing this again tomorrow; finding my way through a closed highway and returning in time to get Jack off the bus. Don't you feel sorry for me? I just want to feel sorry for myself for a few minutes. I realize it could be worse and that there are a million people that have it a million times worse than I do. I just want to be down and mad and not feel guilty about it.