Right!

Love this little baby!

Time flies when you’re having fun

I can’t believe it’s already been a week since I had my new little guy. It seems like I was JUST heading into the hospital early in the morning for my induction, as nervous and scared as can be.

Then as if this past week didn’t seem fast enough, it wasn’t until I had William that I realised that this entire past year has flown by. The first time I saw Robert after having the new baby, I couldn’t believe how big he was. He was always the baby to us. I always looked at him more like a little baby than the one year old that he is. I don’t know if that’s because he isn’t walking yet (he’s just starting to) or because he won’t eat table food yet or what. But now I look at him and wonder where that time went. I can’t help but feel sad about how fast the last year passed and knowing how fast this coming year will go. In 12 short months, William is going to be where Robert is today and Robert where Andrew is. It’s crazy scary to watch them grow up that fast, not only because they’re growing up fast, but because I, too, am getting older fast. Individual days seem like eternities when you’re so busy taking care of little ones, but add those days up into weeks, months and years and they seem to pass by in the blink of an eye.

Mourning my pregnancy

I don’t know what it is about the end of this pregnancy, but I feel a sadness that it’s now gone. Not that I don’t want William here right now (because I do), but I’m really mourning the pregnancy with him. I feel like this at the end of every pregnancy and I always chalked it up to my body telling me that I just wasn’t done having kids. I often wondered when that feeling would no longer return after giving birth. But even after my third, it has again returned. And it’s pretty strong.

I never really knew how many kids I wanted and a third wasn’t even in the picture for us until Andrew and Robert were more independent (maybe 3 years down the road?). However, fate had other plans for us. It was a complete shock to me when I found out I got pregnant on the pill, and even then, I felt sad about it because I knew that that pregnancy could very well be my last. Because of that, I told myself I’d enjoy every moment of it. And I did until the end when I was faced with blood pressure problems and an impending induction. Things were moving so fast at that point that I really didn’t get a chance to slow down and savor every last moment, every last ache, pain, discomfort, fear, excitement and anticipation that comes along with being pregnant.

So now that those 9 months are gone, I can’t help but feel a little down about my reproductive future. If babies weren’t so hard, I’d have 10 more right now, but truth is, I was already stretched thin with two and I know three will be much more rough. So far it isn’t too bad even though William hasn’t yet completely gotten his days and nights in the right order, but I know for sure that four little ones would put me over the edge as long as I’m living so far away from my family. It makes me sad to think that William might have been my last. It makes me sad that I may never get a chance to try for a girl. Of course I could wait a few years, but I feel like I’ll be so old by then and I really have no idea if my husband would even be on the same page with me.

Sigh.

How I’ve been

Aside from being a little sad that my pregnancy has come to an end, I actually feel great. I always feel ready to get up and run a marathon after giving birth and this time was no exception. If anything, I don’t even feel any different. Aside from one stitch that causes a little discomfort from time to time, I really don’t feel like I gave birth just a week ago. I was up cleaning the apartment the day I came home and now that my husband has been back to work since yesterday, my life after baby is really no different than life before baby, aside from now having a third little mouth to feed.

It’s also nice to know that I’ll get my body back for awhile. I really need to work on losing weight again and my husband is on board with me this time around which should make things much easier for me. We’re looking into joining Weight Watchers and hoping to find success with that. Right now I’m just trying to keep my appetite in check. It’s hard going from eating whenever you want during pregnancy to trying to be more disciplined afterward. I gained about 25-30 pounds with this pregnancy, which is more than I usually gain, and only lost 10 after giving birth. I don’t know how that happened since he alone was nearly 8 pounds and I also lost some water weight, but oh well. More incentive to ditch the rest of the fat I suppose.

The sleeping situation still sucks, but that’s to be expected and it really hasn’t been that hard on me since I wasn’t sleeping much at the end of my pregnancy anyway. The carpel tunnel in my hands, especially my right hand, made it very hard to sleep for more than an hour without having to get up and shake out the pain and tingling in my hands. Now that the carpel tunnel is going away, the few hours of sleep that I do get at night are much more satisfying. I haven’t slept so hard in a long time.

The bleeding hasn’t been too bad this time around either. At just a few days postpartum, I was having stretches of a few hours where I wouldn’t bleed at all and I really haven’t bled at all today. I know it’s still going to come and go for the next few weeks, but with Robert I felt like I bled so much for so long and it seemed to take forever to let up. So this makes me feel good!

How baby’s been

William hasn’t been too hard to take care of. I’m not trying to breastfeed this time around so it’s such a relief knowing that ALL feedings, day and night, are not my responsibility. With two other kids and a husband who works a ton, I need all the help I can get in the evenings and during the night. I feel so much more relaxed as a mother knowing that I don’t have to worry about everything that goes along with breastfeeding. The only downside is that I’ve been VERY uncomfortable since my milk came in a few days ago. It’s slowly getting better, but the sore, massive boobs make it impossible for me to pick up Andrew and Robert. I can’t wait to have normal boobs again.

Nights were hell at first, but I think he’s finally learning that daytime is for being awake and nighttime is for sleeping. The first night we were home, he was up every hour to eat. I was completely shocked by this because I expected bottle-fed babies to sleep about 3 hours between feedings. I was soooo looking forward to that after having breastfed Andrew and Robert for the first few months. Being up every hour or two with them was hell so I was really looking forward to the 3-4 hour stretches that we could expect from William. Wrong. The first few nights were awful, but I am happy to say that the past few nights weren’t THAT bad. Sometimes he’ll refuse to go back to sleep for a few hours after a feeding, but I’ll definitely take that over being up Every. Single. Hour. And last night, he got up at 10pm to eat just before we went to bed, then not again until 2am and lastly at 6am. It worked out well because I got him taken care of at 6, had him down for a nap by 7 and the other two monsters were up at 7:30. If every night could be like that, I’d be happy.

Oh, and POOP! This baby poops more than any other baby of mine. I don’t know anyone who can poop 4 times in 10 minutes, but he does it every day. And does it stink! I never did formula so early on so I never had to experience these raunchy poops, but holy rotten eggs, Batman!

Even with all the poop, might I mention that he’s still TOO CUTE? I still can’t get over how much he looks like Andrew did when he was born. They’re like twins separated by 28 months.

How the other boys are doing

Andrew is very interested in his new little brother. It took him awhile to understand that “baby” was no longer Robert. Every time we’d say “baby”, he’d say “Bopple” (how he says Robert), but he’s now starting to understand that William is now the baby. He knows he sleeps/naps in our room so every time he gets up in the morning, he goes over to our bedroom door and says “Baby?”. It’s so funny. For some reason, he also likes to sniff William’s head. I also taught him to “kiss the baby”, which is too cute and shown in the photo below.

Robert, on the other hand, doesn’t show much interest. Robert is a tank and he travels at a million miles a minute, plowing through everything in his path. So we have to be careful with him around his new little brother. He’ll come over to him and slap him on the head before you realise he did it. He also gets jealous when William cries and will also cry for attention. Andrew never really did this with Robert when he was that small, but Andrew was also a few months older. A few months make all the difference with boys of that age.

Overall, taking care of these three guys is a lot of work, but I really am so glad to have them in my life. I just wish they didn’t have to grow up so fast.

Both of us are doing great. My blood pressure is still not as low as I’d like it, but I’m hoping we can get out of the hospital tomorrow since my husband has to fly Friday and Saturday. Nothing like being throw back into the real world when you’re the least bit ready!

I get up and have to go from 0 to 60 in milliseconds. I throw on my clothes from the previous day, I pee, get a drink, then head out to the kitchen to warm up bottles. Many times I have to do this with my iPod on because their screaming irritates me so much. I’ll then get Andrew first, because he’s the worst offender. I’ll give him his bottle (yes, he’s two and still drinks milk from a bottle 2-3 times a day, but that’s another story…), change his diaper, then get Robert. By the time I’m feeding Robert his bottle, Andrew is finished with his. He throws it in the sink, then goes to find something to get into or whine about. Usually it’s finding the remote from wherever it’s hidden and running off with it or whining that he doesn’t have his bottle of water yet. I can’t dare get up to grab the remote from him or get his water because Robert will be pissed that I stopped feeding him. So I just deal with it for the next 10 minutes and hope he doesn’t eat the batteries…

When Robert’s done, I proceed to change his diaper, but he’s usually mad because he’s out of milk. He eats 9oz so it’s not like he’s starving. I think it just takes him awhile to recognize that he isn’t hungry anymore. I then change his diaper as quick as I can and leave him on the floor, crying, so I can get Andrew’s breakfast ready (usually an apple or a banana). I’ll bring his plate over to the table with me while I get Robert’s breakfast ready. Andrew’s usually throwing a tantrum by this point because I haven’t given him a bite to eat yet. So I try to give him one once I have Robert all set in his high chair, but now Andrew doesn’t want to eat. Even though he wanted that “lala” or “appoo” SO BAD before, he wants a “cacka” now (he’s OBSESSED with crackers). So I just leave his food on the table while I feed Robert, knowing that he’ll get to it at some point.

You might say to just put Andrew in his chair and let him feed himself, but that usually leads to more drama than it’s worth. We did this before having Robert and it worked well, but now that Robert also sits in a chair and is now eating solids, Andrew gets jealous and when he knows that I”m busy feeding Robert, he’ll whine in his chair or throw his food or bottle of water for attention. Anything to bring the attention back to him.

After the feeding frenzy, I try to eat my own breakfast. I’ll make myself a bowl of oatmeal and as soon as I go to eat (standing in the kitchen, mind you, because me sitting at the table also causes drama), Andrew now wants his breakfast and Robert is again whining about something. They never want anything until they see I’m busy, then all of a sudden they each need something NOW. So as usual, I wolf down my food, feel a little sick afterward and go entertain them for the next few hours before naptime.

Usually those hours are spent trying to keep them out of everything. I like to turn on PBS so Andrew can watch Dinosaur Train and Sesame Street, but this usually leads to Robert climbing up to the TV stand, pounding on it, slapping and clawing at the TV and changing the channel or turning the TV off/on numerous times. And once Andrew sees him up there, he feels the need to get in on the action. Andrew knows not to go near the TV, but once he sees Robert there, he seems to forget what he knows and reverts back to his one-year-old self. So I tell them “NO!” and remove them both from the TV. At this point I don’t even bother turning it back on because the same thing is just going to happen again. So now the one thing that keeps Andrew occupied and entertained in the morning is gone. Nice.

Then there’s the bookshelf next to the TV. Robert loves to grab books out of it and even though Andrew knows not to touch one thing in it, he has to one-up Robert by taking even more books out. Between the TV and the bookshelf, it’s a constant fight all day. By this point, I usually tell them “NO!” and slap them both on the butt, but this seems to be more humorous to them than anything else. I still have yet to figure out how to discipline these boys because EVERYTHING is so damned funny to them. So I end up putting them in one of their rooms to play. These kids have SO MANY toys to play with so I don’t understand the constant need to get into everything else. Why would kids want to play with toys though?

The room trick used to work out pretty well for us. They’d end up finding something to play with and entertaining each other. Well, not so much anymore. I don’t know what happened, but they would rather now follow me around than play with each other. Because I guess it’s fun to watch me feed the cats, go to the bathroom, load/unload the dishwasher, etc.

There’s nothing I hate more than mornings at this house. Moving here, I didn’t expect to be doing it all on my own most days out of the week, but for the past year now, my husband’s had to be at work by 6:30 all but two mornings in the week. I hate it. I feel like I’m a single parent 75% of the time because of this. I wake up with the kids, I take care of them in the morning, in the afternoon and do half the work in the evening. He may give them a bottle before bed and change a diaper or two, but that’s it. I understand that it’s his schedule that is causing this and that he has no control over it, but that doesn’t make things easier on me. Being unexpectedly pregnant these past 9 months also hasn’t made things easier on me. This is why I was on birth control. I knew I couldn’t handle more than this right now. But of course things didn’t work out the way I expected them to and now in just a week or so, I’ll have a third kid in the mix. My already hectic mornings are going to become that much more hectic and to make matters worse, I won’t be getting nearly as much sleep at night because I’ll be up every few hours with a newborn. What the hell.

If you’re thinking, “I’d rather kill myself,” then yeah, you’re right. Joking, of course, but I could think of a gazillion other ways I’d rather spend my mornings. Truth is, I hate being a stay at home mom. I hate having kids tied to me every second of the day. I hate not being able to use the bathroom without kids following me. I hate not being able to eat without two mouths wanting a bite. I hate not being able to take my focus away from them for even a minute. I hate not even getting a break when my husband’s here because they’d rather follow me around and annoy me than do anything else. I hate the constant whining. I hate the crying. I hate the tantrums. I hate never being able to leave the house because someone is always unhappy in the car (usually Robert). I hate never having anybody but kids to talk to. I hate not having an identity outside of “mama”. I hate never having time to do the things I used to enjoy doing. I hate feeling so alone when I’m quite literally surrounded by people, although they’re little people.

Then there’s everything else that needs to be done around here. I feel like I can never get anything done because I have to waste my day keeping the kids out of everything. As soon as I clean anything, it’s immediately dirty. As soon as I put toys away, they’re already thrown all over the floor. As soon as I take care of someone’s need, someone else needs something else. It’s just constant going and going and after two years of it, it starts to wear at you mentally and physically. My job is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. I don’t get a chance to get away from my job every weekend. I don’t get sick days. I don’t get vacation days. It’s the same thing for me, day in and day out. It’s monotonous.

I remember reading something from a SAHM a few weeks ago. I don’t remember exactly what it was or where it was said, but it was something along the lines of, “How can I really appreciate my kids if I never get a chance to miss them?” This hits home for me and I think is the biggest problem I have. My husband sees me frustrated with the kids all the time and to an outsider, it probably looks like I hate them at times. It isn’t that I hate them or even dislike them. It’s that I never get a chance to be away from them. I don’t feel like I can appreciate my kids as much as I could because I have not once experienced missing them. I don’t get to look forward to seeing them after a long day at work. I don’t get to look forward to spending a weekend with them after working all week. I don’t even get to look forward to seeing them after they’ve spent the night or weekend with their grandparents or someone else in the family.

It’s just like when my husband goes away on a trip. As much as I hate it when he has to be away for a few days or a week or more, there’s nothing better than the feeling of seeing him again when he returns. Of course I appreciate him when he’s here, but when he’s away and comes home, I can appreciate having him around that much more. I’m given a chance to miss him, think about him, get excited about seeing him again. I never get that with my kids since I’m around them all the time. Yeah, I may get two hours to myself to go to the doctor or grocery shopping, but that really isn’t enough.

As much as I’m excited about a new baby, I can’t help but feel even more depressed about this whole situation. As if I wasn’t already stuck in a rut, now I’m stuck even further. It’s sad that I’m actually looking forward to labor so I can get a mini vacation in the hospital away from this chaos. I mean, who looks at a hospital stay as a getaway? Probably not many people. But you better believe I’ll be taking advantage of having a team of nurses wait on me hand and foot! It’s just going to suck when I have to return to reality with three kids instead of two and I won’t have that constant help to get me through the day.

I really don’t even know what I’m trying to accomplish by writing this. I guess to mainly just get it all off my chest. I never have anyone to talk to about my SAHM frustrations. I don’t know anyone in my situation and those I can talk to don’t seem to show any sympathy. Sometimes I’ll talk to my mom about what I’m going through, but she’ll start saying, “Oh, but they’re so adorable!” or “They’re such a blessing!” or something similar and I’m left feeling like I just want to hang up the phone. Yeah, they’re adorable, but that doesn’t mean they’re easy to take care of. A simple, “I understand” or “I sympathize” would work wonders, even if you don’t fully understand what I’m going through. I hate feeling like my feelings are always minimized just because I have kids. Like my feelings don’t matter anymore. Like I don’t matter anymore. Like my life is supposed to completely revolve around them now and I must put every need of my own on hold.

It’s especially frustrating because, even though she wasn’t a SAHM, she was a single parent for most of our upbringing. Even when she was married to my dad, he was never around to help. If anyone would understand what I’m going through, I would think it would be her, but unfortunately, she has multiple sclerosis and I think she just doesn’t have the capacity to remember how things were for her when she was raising me and my sister. This is also something I struggle with. Most women can look up to their mothers for advice on raising kids when they become mothers, but I feel like I’ve been cheated out of that because of my mom’s condition. I know it isn’t her fault, but I feel like it’s a part of motherhood that I’m never going to experience and I can’t help but be frustrated by it. I don’t have anyone to look up to who has “been there, done that”. It’s just me, going at it alone. Learning as I go with zero support outside of my husband who can’t even be here as much as I need him.

Sigh.

I don’t think I look too much different from 30 weeks. My tummy is sticking out a little bit more, but I thought the comparison was going to be a lot more dramatic than it turned out to be. I feel like I’ve gained a ton of weight, but in reality, I guess I really haven’t so the photos here make sense.

Anyway…

I had an appointment with my specialist yesterday and left the office pretty damned mad. My blood pressure has been normal for the past few weeks so I stopped worrying about it. It’s up one minute, down the next and I think my OB has even come to the conclusion that as long as they let me sit down for 10 minutes before checking it rather than rushing me in the room to check it, it’ll come back within the completely normal range. So I haven’t even been worrying about it and have decided to let myself do things around the house again. I actually feel better the more I’m up and doing things. It’s funny that the worst I’ve felt this entire pregnancy was the time I had to lay on the couch all day.

Even the specialist didn’t seem too concerned at my last appointment. I don’t know why, but for some reason this time, he pulled the blood pressure card again and started going on about needing to induce me before 38 weeks if it goes up again. I’m sorry, but no, not going to happen. Unless it goes up high, stays consistently high and I have protein in my urine and/or other signs of pre-eclampsia, I AM NOT being induced before 38 weeks. It’s bad enough they want to induce between 38-39 weeks because of my clotting disorder. I fought that tooth and nail with Robert’s birth and agreed on 39 weeks and after that, told myself that I would not be induced for that reason again. There’s absolutely NO WAY I will agree to be induced before 38 weeks if only my blood pressure is a little elevated. If he was that concerned about it, he would have sent me to the hospital for another 24 hour urine collection and blood work. But he didn’t. Must not be that bad then, huh?

Then they do the ultrasound and find that the baby is measuring 7lbs 3oz right now. I kind of expected that since Robert was over 9lbs at birth and this baby has been measuring big all along. So this baby is right on track with Robert’s birth weight if their estimate is even correct (which many times these estimates can be off a pound or so in either direction so you have to take them with a grain of salt). Then the specialist brings it to my attention that they may need to induce earlier because the baby is large. Um…what? Have you not looked back at my chart? Did you not see that I gave birth to a baby over 9 pounds just a year ago? I don’t think my body is going to have a problem birthing another one of the same size. I’m the one who has to go through with it and I’m not scared about it, so why should you be? If anything, Andrew’s birth was much more difficult than Robert’s and he was only 7lbs 9oz! I refuse to be induced early because of a supposed “big” baby. What’s wrong with going into labor on my own and seeing how things play out, taking a small risk of C-section if the baby gets stuck rather than go straight to induction with a much larger risk of C-section? I don’t know if these doctors don’t know it or what, but I don’t have family or any sort of help here. I have two kids already and a husband who can take ONE WEEK out of work to help after this baby is born. I can’t put myself at greater risk for major surgery when I know full well that I’m going to be the main caregiver of THREE BABIES UNDER THREE in just a few weeks. How is that supposed to work if I can’t move because I have a huge cut in my abdomen that will take at least 6-8 weeks to heal? I’m sorry, but I need to avoid that at all costs.

I’ve had it up to my ears with the BS these doctors keep throwing at me. If it isn’t one thing, it’s five other things. So my blood pressure is down, but now they’re worrying about the size of the baby. What’s even more funny is that the whole reason they want to induce me between 38-39 weeks is because the clotting disorder I have can cause the baby to not grow properly. Because of this, they’ve had me in to see them every few weeks to make sure the baby is still growing. And guess what? He’s consistently measured BIGGER than normal, NOT smaller. So they initially push induction because the baby may be too small, but now they’re pushing induction EVERN EARLIER because the baby may be too big? How does this make any sense? How about you just let me go into labor on my own like I did with Andrew (which happened naturally right before 39 weeks anyway) and we’ll see how things go?

To make matters worse, they brought up the idea of doing an amniocentesis SEVERAL TIMES in the past few weeks. They wanted to perform it this week and the specialist brought it up to me again at this appointment. I turned it down twice now so why do they think I’m going to change my mind all of a sudden? No one ever mentioned this to me earlier in my pregnancy. This same specialist never even mentioned it to me before in my previous pregnancy. So why now are they mentioning it to me? What good is an amnio going to do? He told me it was to make sure the baby is okay since I have a “history of miscarriage”. As bad as my miscarriage was, I had only one. I don’t consider that a “history”, especially since it’s a pretty common thing for all women to go through. And why on earth am I going to consent to a procedure that has a HIGHER RISK of miscarriage to determine if I’m going to miscarry or not? Not to mention, at 36 weeks, it isn’t considered a miscarriage anyway. I’m comfortable enough knowing that my baby will be fine without the amnio. I’ve made it this far and I’m willing to take that risk. I’ve been in every other week for ultrasounds throughout this entire pregnancy and have been going in every week and sometimes even twice a week as of late and the baby seems to be doing just fine. I think doing an amnio is taking things a little too far. These doctors are making this pregnancy out to be a hell of a lot more high risk than it needs to be.

I HATE feeling pressured into this crap. I switched doctors because of this last time and look, now I’m dealing with it again on an even larger scale. To make matters worse, I feel like if I go against my specialist’s recommendation and refuse induction, my OB will make my labor and delivery a living hell. Some may say switch doctors, but I tried that months ago and no one will even agree to see me this far out. So I’m pretty much stuck. I’m to the point where I almost want to show up in labor at another hospital and let the on call doc do the delivery. It really can’t get much worse than what these doctors are trying to get me to do right now.

Why in the hell can’t I just go through labor like I did with Andrew? I had the clotting disorder then and no one even mentioned induction, neither my specialist nor the 7 different OBs I saw at the practice. It’s not like I had him 10 years ago and things have changed since then. I had him and Robert 16 months apart! And Robert and this baby will only be 13 months apart! I don’t think there’s been THAT much research in just 2.5 years that shows that if you have MTHFR, you have to be induced OR ELSE! In fact, quite the opposite is true. Doctors can’t seem to agree on any one protocol for dealing with MTHFR during pregnancy. I just got “lucky” in that the doctors in this area all seem to be of the camp that you need to have every medical intervention possible if you have this mutation. I’m no expert, but I think I’ve been around the block enough times and I think I’ve done enough research to make an informed decision for myself. I don’t think induction is necessary for any of the reasons they are presenting to me and I WILL put up a fight!

Anyway, my blood pressure has always been somewhat of an issue throughout all of my pregnancies. One week, it’ll be 120/70, another week, it’ll be 140/80, then the next week it’ll be 130/75. It’s usually all over the place and even though my doctor’s show some concern nearing the end, it’s never really been that much of an issue. Not since a few weeks ago, that is. As usual, my blood pressure has been all over the place with this pregnancy. Lately it’s been hovering around 130/80 until two weeks ago where it shot up to 150/80 at my bi-weekly specialist appointment. I knew I was going to be in for a ride after hearing that.

So after my ultrasound (which showed that everything with baby looks completely normal – he was measuring 5lbs 3oz), the nurse had me lay down for 5 minutes before rechecking my BP. This time it was 120/75. Still concerned that it was so high when I first went in, the specialist sent me over to the hospital for some blood work and to pick up a jug for a 24 hour urine collection.

Two days later, I had the results back from my tests. Everything was normal, not even a trace amount of protein in my urine. They just told me to take it easy for the time being and that I’d need to come back to see the specialist at the beginning of the following week to make sure things weren’t getting worse.

As I expected, my blood pressure was high at that appointment, too. I don’t know how it couldn’t be since I was so worked up over it. Classic case of white coat syndrome. To my surprise, the doctor didn’t seem too concerned and just told me again to take it easy.

Then I went to my regular OB that Thursday and had my highest reading yet – 152/86. The nurse then had me lay down on my left side for 10 minutes and took it again – 118/66. So right there, I had my highest and lowest blood pressure readings that I’ve EVER had. Again, the doctor just told me to lay down as much as possible at home since that was obviously helping keep it down.

Then last night hits. I tried really hard to keep off my feet all weekend and felt like I did a pretty good job at it, but by 9pm, I was starting to feel pretty dizzy. At first I thought maybe I was just tired, but I really wasn’t THAT tired. If anything, I was probably just tired of laying down. But the dizziness kept getting worse. By the time I got up to go to bed, I could barely walk. I felt like complete crap. My husband asked if I needed to go to the hospital, but fearing they’d have me there for a week if I went in, I decided to try to sleep it off and see how I felt in the morning. If by then I wasn’t better, I’d call the doctor to see what they wanted me to do.

I didn’t feel too bad throughout the night as long as I was laying down. But any time I got up to pee or get a drink (pretty much every hour), I felt extremely dizzy. At 6:45 I decided to get up and take a shower because I knew that once I called the doctor, they’d want to see me. I didn’t feel too bad after I got up, but was still somewhat lightheaded. I wanted to shrug it off and hope for the best, but my husband was scheduled to fly tonight so I figured I’d better get checked out now while he was home rather than wait until he left. If things were to get worse while he was gone, I would have been either stuck at home SOL or had to drag the kids with me to the doctor’s office and/or hospital. There’s no way that was going to happen.

So I called the doctor. I figured I’d get in right away, but the nurse told me to come in at 1:30. Ryan would have had to leave for the airport by then so I told her that wasn’t going to work. She then said I needed to go to the hospital and have Labor & Delivery check me out. My. Worst. Fear.

I really didn’t have much choice. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to go. I packed my bag, expecting to be there at least the rest of the day, and hoped for the best. Having to go to the hospital by myself without knowing when I would be returning home is not on the top of my list of most enjoyable things. However, somehow I found it in me to calm down on the 5 minute drive over there and went straight to the nurses’ station at L&D. Soon after, I was putting on a gown, climbing into bed and getting hooked up to a bunch of different monitors. They had me give a urine sample, which thankfully came back showing no protein. This was reassuring to me. After the nurse had me answer a bunch of registration questions, I had my blood pressure taken. I almost didn’t want to ask what it was, but knew that I needed to for my own peace of mind. It was only 133/79. Not bad considering the circumstances. I was expecting it to be a lot worse than my worst reading. Knowing that it was pretty normal made me feel much better about the situation.

They kept me hooked up to the monitors for about an hour and a half and I used the time to shut my eyes and relax without having to worry about kids climbing all over me. It was probably the most peaceful hour and a half I’ve had since I was in the hospital recovering after Robert’s birth! Hospital bed rest might not be the worst thing after all!

After four more BP readings, my doctor came in to see how me and the baby were doing. My BP readings stayed between 120/70 and 130/80 so he was happy with that. AND SO WAS I! The baby was also doing great, but wouldn’t keep still long enough for them to get a consistent heartbeat measurement. I was just relieved to know that nothing serious was going on. Who knows why I was dizzy. I guess it was just a weird fluke thing. So they sent me home, telling me to drink a lot of water (for the BP), eat a lot of protein (for the dizziness) and keep laying down as much as possible.

I feel like I got lucky this time. I hope to not step foot back in that hospital until I’m in labor. Even though I’m only 35 weeks right now, I’m so ready to have this baby because I’m so worn out dealing with the blood pressure issues. These next few weeks could not go fast enough!

So I purchased a new diaper bag last week. Even after having two kids, I was never much a fan of diaper bags. I have a few cheap ones that I’ve acquired over the years, one from my baby shower with Andrew, one from my mom before I had Robert last year and too many to count freebie bags that I got from all the doctors and hospitals I’ve been to over these past few years. I really don’t know why, but I haven’t used any of them that much. I don’t know if it’s because I just didn’t like them, they weren’t functional enough or because I never felt there was a true need for them. I was always lucky in that I was never that far from home in case of an accident and surely not far enough away to ever need a bottle, food or anything of that sort. Aside from our long moves across country, long trips to visit family or shorter 1-2 hour trips closer to home, I never take a diaper bag with me. I always feel like if there’s that big of an accident and I don’t have my bag, I can just stop by Target to buy a few diapers and a pack of wipes. You can never have too many diapers or wipes anyway so no big deal.

Then I started having to take my kids to daycare a few times a week. It really got to be a pain in the ass having to carry around a purse along with a diaper bag (or two). Now that I’m going to have my hands even more full with a third baby, I felt it was pretty necessary to have some sort of bag that could double as a purse that I could just throw over my shoulder or across my body rather than hang off my arm while trying to carry a baby or two or three. All of my current diaper bags and purses are the type that you either have to carry by hand or on your elbow and that just wasn’t cutting it anymore. Try carring a baby in your arm while you have two bags hanging off the elbow of said arm all while trying to hold a toddler’s hand with the other hand. Oh yeah, and do that while walking down a long flight of stairs to your car. It isn’t easy and it led to way too much unnecessary frustration in the morning.

So I splurged on something that looks nice, that I wouldn’t mind doubling as my purse and most importantly, wouldn’t have to hang off my elbow. I ended up with this:

Petunia Pickle Bottom Shoulder Bag in Toffee Roll

It’s a Petunia Pickle Bottom. I never heard of this brand until I started doing some research on diaper bags while bored while my husband was away on a trip to the Bahamas. At first I thought the name sounded a bit snooty and didn’t think I’d be interested in the brand, but after spending what seemed like hours on their website oogling what they had to offer and reading reviews about their bags, I HAD to purchase something. I was originally going to get a different bag, but once I saw this pattern, I fell in love. I’m not a huge fan of yellow or brown, but I LOVE this pattern. It’s really different and really shiny and will look really pretty out in the sun this summer.

And now I’m hooked. I want another one. Or two. Or three.

Right now, I’m eyeing this bag:

Petunia Pickle Bottom Touring Tote in Black Currant

Simply because the colors are more my “style” and you can change the strap for multiple ways to wear. Oh, and I just really like it and would like to have it!

And, call me crazy because I usually HATE Vera Bradley bags with a passion, but I’m also eyeing this:

Vera Bradley Get Carried Away Tote in Baroque

Normally, I would have NEVER even CONSIDERED a Vera Bradley bag because the patterns seem so granny-ish to me, but there are actually a few newer patterns that really appeal to me. The picture I posted above is a perfect example of this. If you can’t already tell from these two photos, I really like black and green together!

I think I have an addiction…

I also feel like a huge whale right now, but have only recently started to get a little bit uncomfortable when I’m on my feet for any length of time. I have noticed a difference in energy from this week and last during my weekly shopping runs on Saturday mornings. Before, i could go all over the place, but as of this week, I can barely finish at one store before I’m ready to go home.

Food

The pregnancy itself hasn’t been very eventful these past 6 weeks. I finally took my gestational diabetes test at my last appointment and found out today that I don’t have it. I was really fretting about it this time around since I put on so much weight so fast and still eat NOTHING BUT JUNK most of the day. I wake up, I want chocolate. 10:00, I want chocolate. Lunchtime, I want chocolate. 2pm, I want chocolate. Dinnertime, I want chocolate. I usually indulge my cravings during my pregnancies, but this time the cravings seem to be a lot worse than usual. I have to wonder if it’s because I just get so worn out from chasing two kids around all day and never really get a chance to sit down and eat a good meal. It’s easier to eat a PB sandwich and a few cookies rather than make something more satisfying. It’s just hard to find the time for it. Breakfast is especially difficult because the kids get up around 7 and I’m feeding one of them for at least the next two hours. It’s hard for me to even make a bowl of cereal withot having to be hounded by Andrew for a bite. No matter what I eat, he wants it and WWIII breaks out if I dare not share with him. It’s much easier to sneak a cookie when he’s not looking. Then by the time they’re both down for their naps around 10, I’m too hungry to even function and end up eating everything in sight. I honestly don’t know how I’ve not gained a single pound these past 6 weeks! Maybe because I gained so fast during the first half of the pregnancy, my weight gain won’t be so drastic the second half? Who knows.

Baby Size

Even with all the junk I’ve been eating, the baby is measuring only a little above average. He was 3lbs 1oz when they checked last Thursday. 3lbs seems huge at only 29 weeks, but when you think about it, I only have about 10 weeks go to. It really wouldn’t surprise me if this baby ended up around Robert’s size at birth. I can easily see this baby gaining another 6lbs before the end of it. Just crossing my fingers that he doesn’t end up BIGGER than Robert!

Names

We knew from the beginning that we were naming this baby William if he was a boy. Well, we’ve known from very early on that he was going to be a boy so we didn’t worry much about names. Now that I’m in the third trimester, I feel like it’s time to start getting serious about middle names. My husband and I talk about it on occasion, but haven’t really felt pressured yet to pick one.

I like:

William Oliver
William Carter
William Alexander

He likes

William Scott
William Thomas
William Garrett

He nixed Carter because of a bad association. I think we also nixed Alexander because it’s so long. His other suggestions, I’m just not sure about. I don’t know why, but I really don’t like Thomas. Garrett isn’t bad, but I’m not sold on it. Scott is probably my favorite of his suggestions. I think my only hangup with it is that it sounds too Scottish. Not a bad thing since we both have some Scottish roots and my great grandmother’s maiden name is Scott, but still.

I kind of want a short, one or two syllable middle name so that it fits with Andrew and Robert’s middle names (Ryan and James respectively), but there really isn’t much out there aside from the first and middle names we’ve already given our children! There’s Evan, which I think my husband suggested once, but then the kid will have WET for initials. Not cool. I also want to keep away from endings like -en because it sounds too rhymey with William and that eliminates a lot of names that are popular right now. Not that I like those trendy Brayden, Jayden names anyway.