Isn't it pretty to think so?

Growing up

I took my little one to the doctor yesterday for her one month check up (she's actually five weeks old, but whatever). What I learned was that what I had suspected was correct...she's not that little! Since birth she has gained three pounds and three inches, putting her in the 95th percentile for weight and 75th percentile for height, which basically put me over the edge as I realized she is growing up already and will (G-d willing)keep growing and not be my baby forever. I came home and immediately told Hubby I was sad and wanted another baby. True to form, he was quite a jerk about my sadness and desire to have another baby. Keep in mind, I have always wanted a family with 4 or 5 children, so this is nothing new to him. He does not want another baby. I am so angry that I already have that empty feeling that comes w/ IF and loss. I should be basking in the glow of my children and baby. They are so wonderful, but instead I feel grief, because even if Hubby agrees, I know what the chances are...slim to none. I feel like my dream will never come true, and I am so mad at myself for not feeling satisfied with what I have. My life is sooo many people's dream! Why am I sitting here in tears and feeling so alone?

(Btw-it could be hormonal, and it also could be b/c my mom leaves town tomorrow, but whatever it is, it sucks!)

Clueless

I know I have lots to update about and I will get to it all, I hope, at some point. But right now I only have a couple of minutes so I thought I'd just tell you about something really funny that happened while I was in the hospital. Hubby's friend, B, came and visited me. We were chatting a bit and then we had this conversation:
B: Wow! You guys are spending the big bucks getting a private room and all.
Me: All the rooms are private.
B: Really? No! Don't you have to share a room?
Me: No. I think the hospital would have a hard time getting a decent Women's Center running if they made their postpartum patients share rooms with each other.
B: Ooooooh...(pause) You have postpartum?

Guess what?

I had a baby!!!
Thursday at 12:24 all 7lbs and 7oz of the most beautiful little peach of a girl was born. She looks exactly like her big sis and is doing great. She nurses like a champ.
I am ok: highly hormonal, slightly depressed, beyond constipated, but completely in love.

Why didn't I think of that??

So while I was at the OB yesterday (post pee incident), I met with one of the doctors. This is not my primary doctor and will not be doing the deliver, but she is super nice and one of my favorites. She listened to the baby's heartbeat and had me sign my c-section consent form. She then said to me, I kid you not, "Ok well, we'll see you next Thursday (that's when I'm having my c-section), but if you into labor before then, just give us a call." Um...yeah...that sounds like a good idea to me!!

No use crying over spilled....

So, we have a saying in our house. Whenever anything spills we say, "Oh well. Have to do laundry anyway." It started because my kids used to get very upset over spilling things, and then in addition to dealing with the spill, I would have to deal with an upset child or two. Hence, the saying. It has worked wonders.
Today, however, I was at my OB appointment and well...yeah, I spilled my pee. I mean, it was only a matter of time, right? You pee in a cup as often as I do and it's bound to happen. Luckily, it was only a little bit, and it didn't spill ON me, oh...and I hadn't finished peeing yet so I could refill my pee cup, but still...can we say, "GROSS?!?!?"
As I mopped up the floor with cheap paper towels, I kept repeating to myself, "Oh well, have to do laundry anyway, stupid mother f*ing pee cups with NO shelf to put them on...oh well!"

Milk

So, I just opened up a brand new container of milk. Opened the cap and then was about to open the seal that covered the opening when I noticed that a little milk had leaked through. My mind started wondering what could have happened to make the milkl leak... the only thing my paranoid self could come up with was that perhaps someone punctured the lid as they were injecting poison or something into the milk...you know, to try to kill me or something. Had the milk been for my kids, I would have spilled the entire container out, and gone down to the basement to get another container immediately. It was, however for me, and I was tired, hungry, and had already poured my cereal into my bowl...so I poured the milk on top and enjoyed what I sincerely hope was not my last meal of Honey Bunches of Oats. But if for some reason I am found dead tomorrow...it was the milk.

Perinatologist

I like my perinatologist, I really do. He's nice. He pats my knee. He always tells me that everything is great. He's like a Jewish grandfather. Well, he's probably younger than my father and is really nothing like what either of my grandfathers were like, but that's how I view him. My husband does not like him. He doesn't like him because when I was pregnant with my twins and we were begging him to get the babies out of me and telling him that I was swollen to the point that I could barely walk or breathe, and my legs were starting to blister and weep because my skin couldn't stretch anymore, he said, "No." It wasn't until we told him that I gained NINETY POUNDS that he thought maybe some other tests were in order. Actually, his exact response was, "Why didn't anyone tell me that?" HUH?!?!? Aren't you the doctor? Are you consulting with my OB? Aren't you supposed to know that? So, that night I received a phone call from his office instructing me to go to L & D the next day for blood work. Tests showed that I had atypical preeclampsia (the kind where there is no elevated blood pressure) and my liver function was starting to fail. G-d only knows what would have happened if we hadn't pushed him on the issue. So, I guess I can understand why my husband doesn't like him. But I do, so I have been seeing him again with this pregnancy. Even though 50% of the time he calls me Lori (which is not my name). I assume it is his daughter's name and he thinks of my like his daughter...or something like that.
Today I had an appointment with him. Let me just take a moment to say that he is a highly recommended doctor. I am switching from Lovenox to Heparin, so I brought in my heparin so that he could show me exactly how much to take. He looked at the bottle, read it, and instructed me to take the ENTIRE VIAL (5 CCs) TWICE A DAY. Now, I'm not a physician, nor do I play one on tv, but that didn't seem right to me. I questioned him, and he confirmed what he had said. So, I'm thinking, that is a hell of a lot of blood thinner AND I'm going to have to prick myself 10 times a day now because the pharmacy only gave me 1 cc syringes. I commented to him that I think I need an Rx for bigger syringes and that was when he realized his mistake. I am only supposed to take 1 cc twice a day.

I told Hubby about the mistake and he informed me that I could have died had i taken what the perinatologist originally told me. I'm not sure I'm still such a fan...

I have a date

Not like of the romantic variety. More along the- cut my uterus open and pull out a baby kind. May 14th. Just a little less than three weeks away. I have about a million things to do before then...including having a birthday party for my little ones who are turning three, and try to cram in a much fun stuff with them before my attention will be split with another lovebug, but G-d willing I will have a healthy  baby in 20 days.

*And let me just say, for anyone who is indulging in the Twilight vampire series, I do NOT recommend reading Breaking Dawn while pregnant. It's a great book, but it's really starting to creep me out.

Pain

I cannot stand the pain and loss that is going around our community. It is breaking my heart, and I know that there are others whose hearts are shredded, never to be whole again. And there is nothing I can do to help.

Guess what I am doing today?

Trying not to drink and peeing into a jug that looks remarkably similar to my bottle of Tide w/ Febreeze. For a full 24 hours. Not a drop of my urine is to be flushed. I am disgusted.