Wow, yesterday was hard!  I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, just writhng around in pain from severe cramping and back pain and pelvic pressure and contractions that I could feel in my THIGHS (which was weird.)  This went on for about half of the day, and once it backed off, I was exhausted and cranky and really could hardly leave the couch for the remainder of the day.  Thank God Brent was home to put up with me.  Had I of been on my own with all three kids, I would have killed somebody.  Contractions picked up around dinnertime and proceeded to continue all the way through Desperate Housewives and beyond.  As usual, they were sporadic, ranging anywhere from 6 to 12 minutes apart.  But INTENSE.  Super, super intense.  When my exhaustion finally gave way to sleep, they must have calmed because I woke up this morning feeling semi-normal.  No matter how annoying this has been (now that it has gone on for 3 weeks), I have been lucky to have just one bad day that is usually followed by 2 good or “okay” days.  One night of no sleep is rewarded with two nights of hard, out-like-a-light sleep. 

I have, at times, wondered if baby’s positioning is completely askew, since I still feel him making huge movements and can feel his bum located in completely different areas from time to time throughout the day.  If he were lined up perfectly, perhaps labor would have started and he would have been born by now.  I see the midwife this Wednesday and have her look closely at positioning. 

It’s more likely, however, that this is all completely normal for me and I am simply just starting and stopping labor and spreading the work out over the course of a few weeks instead of having to endure a long and exhausting labor all at once.  I have also considered the very real possibility that once active labor hits, I will have very little time before baby arrives and the chances of me delivering him myself are pretty good.  I think I have fully prepared myself for this possibility. 

Anyway…off to go kill more time.  I’ll update as I’m able.

I decided to take one last picture.

Now I gotta go.  I feel awful.

I had the worst day yesterday.  The WORST.  I think my morning just got off to a horrible start.  All three kids were having all three of their own problems and here I am, 9 months pregnant and exhausted and trying to solve them all while keeping all the plates spinning and all the balls juggling.  My kids are wearing me down.  Aidan hates everything about his new school and complains about it constantly and will go to any lengths to find a way back into public school.  He is argumentative and disrespectful and talks back incessantly and is generally a miserable person to be around 24/7.  Tristan’s ADD is never ending and I am literally spoon feeding him every action he must take in life.  “Sit up.  Stand up.  Go pee.  Get dressed.  Eat.  Brush teeth.  Put coat on.  Pick up backpack.  Walk to bus stop.”  (These simple commands taking up an entire hour of every morning, where between each command he becomes distracted and I find him daydreaming in a random section of the house.)  The school calls me.  He is constantly messing around. His entire life is spent with someone reminding him what he should be doing, because the necessary actions of life (sleep, eat, hygiene) take him so long to accomplish that he has no room for the luxuries. It has gotten so bad, so taxing and exhausting and so beyond my control that very soon, I will succumb to medication that I swore I never would.  And Rylan, after nearly 3 years of complete bliss and sweetness and compliance, has become defiant and dangerous and angry.  I do not even know this child anymore.  He is aggressive and mean and runs from me at every opportunity.  He throws temper tantrums and lashes out and he uses the words he hears his older brothers say.  I feel like it does not matter how well I parent the babies.  The older boys have been so completely screwed up that they are passing it down, like a disease.  To top it all off, Brent is so very unhappy in his job (and rightfully so.)  It’s been over three years now in construction, with little to no time off.  No sick pay.  No vacation pay.  Constant physical work that has made him prematurely age and feel tired all of the time.  It’s not a job he enjoys.  It’s a job he endures each day so that we can have food on the table.  On a good day, he will get home in just enough time to spend maybe two hours with his children.  Often, he doesn’t see them at all.   Even his precious weekends are spent completing tasks around the house that I am not able to do.  It’s no wonder he struggles with cigarettes and alcohol.  I would too.  In fact, I feel like struggling with it now.  How easy it would be to slip right in and kick back a few cocktails each day to take the screaming edge off of everything. 

It all just came crashing down on me yesterday and I spent nearly four hours in hysterical, racking sobs.  There has to be more to life than this.  THERE HAS TO BE.  I cannot imagine living this way until the end.  This is not a life.  This is normal, yes.  This is the American lifestyle, sure.  But it is not life.  It is not what I want for myself, for my family, for my children.  I called Brent at work and he was so worried that I had suddenly become a danger to myself that he immediately came home from work.  (Something he has NEVER done before and will surely be punished for by his superiors.)  Dramatic change has to happen in our life, we both agree.  I am not emotionally able to keep this up, and certainly not with a newborn added to the mix.  Brent is not willing to be so absent from his children’s lives, especially when the only purpose has been to provide us with enough square footage, a new vehicle, electronics and a pile of debt. 

…..

On the pregnancy front, the full moon has officially begun and I am feeling its pull.  Nine more days until my due date.  We are approaching the Point of No Return.

I’m feeling quite ripe today.  My back and hips are achy, my uterus is crampy, I’m dealing with sleep deprivation due to pregnancy insomnia and I’m grumpy.  Yesterday was my original due date, according to my last menstrual period.  Still 11 more days until the ultrasound’s estimated due date. 

Apparently my little island will soon be hit by one of the first wind/rain storms of the season.  During the Fall and Winter, we frequently lose power.  Often, for days at a time.  I thought I’d blog before this event occurs, so you all don’t panic and think I’ve had a baby without telling you.  It actually would be just my luck that I would go into labor when we have no lights, no heat, no hot water and no way to cook a hot meal.  Wanna take bets?

Random Info:

Two more weeks until my due date.

Within the next four weeks, my baby will be born. 

I went into labor with Rylan at 39 weeks. 

I have never passed 40 weeks, so it may only be fitting that I do so this time around.

Neither Brent nor I feel ready, but the fact that we will likely *never* feel ready has begun to sink in.

Here I am at 38 weeks with Rylan:

Woah.

I am doing my best not to complain, because pregnant women who excessively complain and obsess are on my list of Pet Peeves.  But let us note that my lower back has been screaming (SCREAMING) at me and my hips are no longer fond of any type of side lying whatsoever.  My body is nearing its end point. 

That’s all for today. You may send me labor vibes now.

This Wednesday I was consistently plagued with what we call “cooter pains.”  This is the out-of-nowhere, sudden stabbing pain that shoots through your cervix, down your vagina and often all the way down your leg.  Much like an electrical shock.  It feels like the baby has just kicked his foot right down your vagina and then is inside, cackling maniacally.  Since most babies are head down at this point, they can’t possibly be kicking you in the cervix.  It’s more like they’ve got a long pirate sword and are repeatedly stabbing you at the most opportune moments.  Like when you’re standing in line at the grocery store.  Next time you see a pregnant woman suddenly double over in pain, say to her: “Oh man, stabbing sensations in the cervix and vagina, eh?  Poor thing.”  She will be amazed with your experience and knowledge. 

Anyway, I am convinced that these pains can be attributed to the first signs of dilation.  As much as I love to think about the cervix opening slowly and gently like a blooming rosebud, it just isn’t true.  It’s a good mind trick, because really, you don’t want to be imagining that pirate sword when you’re trying to relax and “open, open open.”

Wednesday night (Thursday morning?) around midnight, I woke up to intense menstrual like cramping, followed with sporadic contractions that were anywhere from 2-12 minutes apart.  At this point, I’m not stupid.  Any contractions that don’t come in regular intervals don’t get me excited whatsoever.  I tried to doze between contractions, but that damn intermittent cramping had me rolling up in the fetal position, which made things even worse.  I finally got out of bed and I was up.  FOR THE NIGHT.  Auugh!  That crap lasted well into the morning when it finally subsided and I crashed out on the couch while Rylan watched cartoons for a large majority of the day. 

I’ve now had a good night’s sleep and am ready to face another day of random pain that appears to have no purpose whatsoever.  I’ve woken up to more mucus plug, which is always a joyous occasion and apparently not embarassing to me at all, since I share this information freely with anyone who asks me how I’m doing. 

More exciting information to follow about my fascinating bodily functions.  Is anyone still listening?

Things are getting done.  It is somehow being taken care of.  I don’t know why I ever stress that things won’t happen, because they always do.  This is the life we are priveleged to live.  There have been times during the last ten years when things were so bad financially, that there seemed to be no possible way out.  And then, miraculously, we’d receive a check in the mail for this, that or the other.  Rebates, refunds, unexpected tax returns, a raise, a promotion.  A few months ago I literally had a list of our upcoming expenses that filled an entire sheet of notebook paper.  Some of these needs were small, such as “boys need haircuts” and some were large, such as “fill oil tank for winter heat.”  As of the 27th of this month, every single item on my list will be crossed off.  I have everything I truly need for the baby, including the small luxury of a baby bathtub, which I assumed I would do without.  My midwife will be paid for her services and she will be paid on time.  My pets will have made their trips to the vet and due to the super low price of gas, my oil tank will be filled with enough heat to last us the winter.  Yes, we’ve had to make sacrifices for these things to happen.  I’ve had to make two humiliating trips to the food bank.  Brent has had to work until his body has felt as if it will give up.  He has had to religiously take medication that makes him nauseous and gives him insomnia, in order to give up the smoking habit that has plagued him since we were kids.  When my minivan broke down for good, I had to learn to drive a huge truck that is impossible to park and difficult to maneuver and makes me want to cry as I attempt to get my enormous pregnant self into the driver’s seat and as I struggle to secure my 3 year old into his carseat.  Nevertheless, it has all happened and I am so proud, so thankful and much less stressed.  *Huge sigh of relief* Now we just wait for the baby.  Just waiting, waiting, waiting.

I stepped on the scale this morning.  I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again during pregnancy, since my midwife has stopped weighing me and there really isn’t any point to it whatsoever.  But I was dying of curiosity.  I’ve now officially gained 55lbs.  I gained 65lbs with Pregnancy #1, 65lbs with Pregnancy #2 and 60lbs with Pregnancy #3.  I guarantee you that I will hit 60lbs before I deliver Baby #4.  This means that with my average weight gain of 2lbs per week, this child will not be born for at least another 2 1/2 weeks.  Is that totally scientific or what? LOL.  Well, that’s my estimate anyway.  And I’ve pretty  much convinced myself, because now I’m a total slacker and have started flat-out refusing to do any kind of nesting.  Instead, Rylan and I have been hanging out.  I plan to spend the next few weeks with my CURRENT baby before he becomes the Big Boy.  Yesterday we went for a walk around the neighborhood, as we’ve been doing lately when it isn’t raining. 

P.S.  It would also be completely acceptable for this baby to be born today, the day in which America elects its first black president.  Because that is actually happening today.  Right?!?!

Yesterday we celebrated Rylan’s birthday.  He made sure to wear his Halloween costume to show off to everyone.  There were SO many presents.  It was like Christmas.  My kids are spoiled rotten!  Rylan got a new Brio train track, wooden toys and puzzles, some clothes and some Diego toys, which he played with for at least 4 hours straight yesterday.  Everyone was so generous, which we were so grateful for, since we were only able to buy Rylan a few things for his birthday.  (Jelly beans–his favorite candy.  Gum–promised to him once he turned three, but may have to be held off for another year since he cannot seem to understand the concept of chewing without swallowing.  Spiderman underwear–also promised to him when he turned three.  $5 wooden puzzle.  Rubber boots–a necessity in every size for all children living and playing in the Northwest.) 

This is what happens when you ask your husband to take pictures, but you get the general idea:

From left to right: Tristan, Aidan (Rylan the Pirate) and my brother Dave. 

We had a Diego birthday cake.  Go Diego Go!

And here is the only picture that will EVER exist of my sister-in-law and I, pregnant at the same time.  She’s about 25 weeks along.  That’s my nephew in there!!!

I’m full term!  I did it! I did it! I did it!  I’m totally cleared for homebirth!

Brent and I “did the deed” last night after about ohhhhhh 8 months without.  It gave me raging contractions that radiated into my back and seriously felt like someone was cracking my spine in half.  That lasted for most of the night, which was quite lovely.  They finally began to subside and I passed out, only to have to get up to pee four more times and wake up to a cat’s ass in my face.   Now I’m guzzling coffee (yes, caffeine during pregnancy, ack!) and getting ready to prepare for the entire family to be here in a few hours to celebrate Rylan’s 3rd birthday.  I. Am. A. Zombie.  No more sex during pregnancy.  It’s evil.