Water damage? What water damage?

Let me do with the blog as I'm doing in real life, and continue to ignore the water leaking from the upstairs bathroom into the garage. There are happier topics to think about.

Like Wilbur's new toy! A couple cardboard tubes = endless hedgehog fun. (I plan to save them and see if our daughter enjoys them as much).

I'm posting a play-by-play of the wild action. First, he'd sniff. Then he'd scuffle through them, poke his head out the end and sniff some more. Since the tube is too narrow for him to turn around, he'd proceed to back his little pink tail all the way back out. Then he would re-sniff the air on that end. Then re-enter the tube, re-scuffle, re-sniff, re-back up, you get the idea. Over and over and over. It's a little neurotic when you think about it.

Things got a bit more exciting when he realized there were two tubes, but only a bit.

You can see in this last photo of Wilbur that his lower jaw is still a bit swollen. About a week and a half ago I took him to the vet because his jaw was REALLY swollen, quite suddenly. She determined it was some sort of abscess and Wilbur's been enjoying his snacks of antibiotics-on-human-food ever since. But this last little bit of swelling isn't improving. He doesn't seem to be in any pain any more-- he's been quite friendly-- which I take to be a good sign. For a while there, while the infection was full-blown, he was supremely irritable. (And to those of you who are thinking, "But Wilbur is ALWAYS supremely irritable," just know that the vet said he was the most cooperative hedgehog she's ever seen! --And YEEEES she's seen several.) So anyway, since I've given him the prescribed 10 days of antibiotics, and he seems to be acting just as sweet as ever, I'm guessing the remaining bump is a little scar tissue from where she drained the abscess with a couple syringes. I'm going to watch it to make sure it doesn't get re-inflamed, but otherwise I'm deeming him good-as-new.


To further distract us from the non-existent water leak, let's look at some FLOWERS! Flowers are such happy things. See these amaryllis bulbs? They're the ones my mom thinned out from her garden last fall; I planted the bulbs in our yard, with some irises, which haven't bloomed yet, though they grow at least 2 inches each day. These are currently providing much needed distraction from all the weeds in our yard, which is nice. Though they are oddly, shall we say, foliage challenged. The stalks with blooms have been up for over a week, and some of them have NO leaves at all, while others have really short little things that are trying to catch up to the stalks...

In other news, I took a 39 week belly shot this morning, but it's not worth posting; looks basically the same as last week's. Feel free to scroll down a few posts and pretend like you're seeing that picture for the first time.
Really, at this point, the belly is rather mundane. What's more astounding is the size of my swollen appendages by the end of the day. That's what I REALLY ought to be taking photos of. Quite noteworthy. I mean, I haven't been exposed to what truly bad pregnancy swelling is. I have been told that mine is supposedly not so bad. Sean and I beg to differ. At the end of our walk this evening, he held up one of my hands that was so swollen I couldn't even close it all the way and emphatically declared me a "freak of nature." (At which point he learned how effectively a freak of nature can use her swollen fist as a club. Though silently, I agree with him).

I did meet a new midwife at the birthing center today. Anabelle is really sweet and I liked her a lot. I opted to not get checked, though, so no news on what my stats are. She said there was a "risk" that checking progress might encourage MORE progress, should things be teetering in that direction. So I totally chickened out. Maybe I will get checked next week.

Otherwise, not much is new. We're making good headway on the baby's room. I need to finish painting the trim and doors, but you'll see pictures soon...

screaming inside

bubble in garage ceiling paint. big bubble.
soft poke with stick led to big hole in paint bubble.
water gushed through hole in paint bubble.
home warranty expired two weeks ago.
9 month pregnant woman near tears.

lovely day otherwise.

new crush on the lumberjack

He's already chopped down one scrubby tree... this one was next. It's to make light for proper landscaping efforts along the fenceline in the backyard. Please note: This was all BEFORE breakfast. Isn't that so manly? Naturally, I have a crush on the lumberjack.

Here he's chopping it up into smaller bits. I took photos so I could make poster sized images of his big muscles and hang them in my room.

But he noticed me taking pictures, and I was informed that I was "ruining his street cred." He was saying this as I took the picture below. If you enlarge the picture, you'll see the facial expression that clearly corresponds to "Please. You're embarrassing me." (Hopefully posting these images to the world doesn't further undermine his lumberjack authenticity... Really, it shouldn't-- this actually isn't unusual behavior-- just notable and crush-forming.)

edit: I tried to enlarge it myself, as it wasn't opening in a bigger window for some reason.

sorry-- I can't troubleshoot this thing!

38 weeks and growing!

Since we don't know when she'll choose to break free, I'll probably start taking weekly photos of the belly now. I want to capture it at its biggest!

And who wouldn't want weekly photos of this ray of sunshine?

expectant fatherism

Sean's pretty even-keeled. He's expressive, in many ways-- don't get me wrong. But when it comes to deep, unfiltered, heart-felt emotion surfacing with such strength that he can't hold it back... well, that just doesn't happen a whole lot.

Sunday night, though, it happened.

Over Mexican food.

Specifically, my enchiladas, which turned out to be quite spicy. I made some casual comment about needing more water or something. In response, realizing the situation, he dropped his fork, his eyes bulged, his voice strained up a couple octaves, and with every ounce of authority you can imagine, he was like, "LISTEN-- you do NOT have to eat that! Why don't we put that in a to-go box and you re-order? It is worth HUNDREDS of dollars of re-ordering to NOT be wondering if you're in labor at 5:00 in the morning, when I need to be in a taxi driving to the airport!!!" .... and so on.

It was GREAT. I can't do the exchange justice. He was so earnestly stressed out about the possibility of spicy-food induced labor the evening before he had to go to Atlanta that he could not control the tremor and fear in his voice. :-) I mean, that's totally understandable. The run up to this forum has been stressful enough with the economy being lousy, speakers cancelling, registration down, etc. The idea of having to debate whether or not I was in labor the night before his flight, would have really sent him over the edge. But despite my sympathy, his EMOTION, the deep-seated TERROR, was so real you could touch it. And this totally cracked me up.

Same night, a little bit later... He's browsing through some book called Expectant Fatherhood or something like that because I told him I was passing it along to my friend Nikki and her husband the next day. With that deadline, he decided to go ahead and flip through it.

Side Note: This was a sweet effort on his part-- I haven't expected him to read anything. I don't even like reading about this stuff too much; makes me feel crazy. And this hasn't been his only fatherhood-prep effort. He's also watched (quite attentively) the Happiest Baby on the Block DVD, as he's mentioned. He's gone to all the key midwife appointments. He was out of town (earning income, supporting our existence) for the introductory Bradley class, but has had perfect attendance at all the rest and even takes notes occasionally. Best of all, our kitchen has become a full-time chemistry lab as he cooks vast amounts of divine smelling food to store in our freezer for the the postpartum bunker-down phase. (I'm serious about the bunker bit. I don't think he'd be reacting much differently if we were in the middle of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Years worth of supplies are getting packed into cupboards and compartments. I'm not sure he knows that we will re-emerge into a somewhat normal existence after the baby is born. He seems to be preparing for the next phase with a die-hard certainty that there will be NO functioning of ANY kind EVER again.)

Anyway, his perusal of the Expectant Father book apparently spurred a need to practice his Dr. Karp Happy Baby techniques. I went to the bathroom (again) and upon my return to the room found a large, king-sized quilt lying diagonally across our bed, face down, top corner folded towards the center. And my husband quite seriously requested that I lie on the quilt so he could practice swaddling. ON ME. My husband wanted to practice swaddling a BEACHED WHALE. Y'all, I tried. I really tried to play along, but unfortunately, fell into such an endless laughing fit that I could hardly breathe, and the mission had to be aborted. NEVER have I felt so silly in my life-- and even right now, just remembering his earnest efforts to wrap my arm down by my side, my belly towering 5 feet over me, my swollen ankles dangling off the bed... I can't even type because I get so tickled again.

ahhhhh, anyway. In the end I convinced him he should practice on something a little more infant-sized, and since he didn't have much choice (seeing as how his original victim was still doubled over with tears of laughter streaming down her face), he duly figured out how to wrap a teddy bear in a towel.

I'd say he's ready.

REALLY troubled REALLY little guy

(Backyards are deadly places. Just ask Sean about the hawk and mockingbird. You think you're in for some soul-soothing gardening, but not always.)

troubled little guy

36 weeks and COMPLETELY un-dropped

Okay, so I've got no idea what happened with the apparent dropping of a few days ago, as she has now totally re-elevated. Maybe that was just a warning, a reminder that at some point she intends to drop for good-- as in, right out of me. I'm fine with having just a warning, because the brief couple days of her riding lower only served to make me appreciate the relative comfort of heartburn and breathlessness. Turns out I'm not a fan of the low-lying fetus. Felt so much more achy and contraction-prone, walking was significantly more challenging, and I could never stray farther than 15 minutes from a toilet. So all things considered, I'm glad she's back up where she was, although that's easier to say now than when she's awake and pops one foot outside my rib cage in a very convincing effort to rupture my flesh. I did enjoy my brief hiatus from that game.

She weighs about 6 pounds and is 18.5 inches long. A crenshaw melon, whatever that is. Our birthing classes have been going fine-- we only have 3 left. I'm not sure how much we'll retain of the information we've been given, but I do love all the practice Sean is getting at massaging my feet and back. Been worth every penny. My appointments with the midwives are weekly now. At the last one my fundal height measured a couple centimeters big again (37 cm at my 35 week appointment), but that's been going back and forth at every appointment. Everything else still checks out fine. Next appointment is Friday morning.

Here's the belly at 36 weeks. I wish I'd taken a picture of it when I thought she dropped, because it looked rather different then. (Big and round in a different big and round sort of way). Also, per Hannah's comment on my last entry, I realized I didn't have any full-length photos on here, so I took one like that too, just to put the belly in perspective.

And dear Sean at 36 weeks. Speaking of Sean, I found out today that we are exactly tied on the scale. This totally thrilled me because I was certain he was dozens of pounds less than me by now. I'll be ecstatic if I get through this pregnancy without surpassing my 6'1" husband in poundage. (Let's not discuss the fact that he jogs every day and his legs are solid muscle while mine... uh, yeah... not so much...)

family, friends from afar, and Fuegos cake!

I don't know how I didn't get a photo of the cake. (...Oh wait, yes I do... I ate it too fast).

So, a couple of weekends ago, my sister spearheaded an excellent little family shower for Still-Nameless-- replete with decorations, party favors, a lovely spread of munchies (which fell victim to the same scenario as the cake), and in case I didn't mention it, a FULL cake from Fuegos, which is a divine little family-owned eatery on Lamar. They serve a warm coconut cake that Sean and I have long been in love with. I had no idea one could order and pick up a full cake, so we were quite surprised and incredibly delighted when she showed up with one. Without a doubt, I'd have been healthier NOT knowing this was possible... Anyway, the party was technically in honor of the baby girl, not the Fuegos cake (for some reason) so I'll try to refocus. I did manage to get a photo of the balloon, only because it's not edible. (Side note: you might be noticing the wall behind the balloon and thinking maybe Fuegos puts something extra special in their cake... I'm not denying that possibility. But actually this happened one week post-cake; it's Sean's brainstorm on how to store wall hangings until we have walls decent enough on which to actually arrange and hang these things.)

Our little in-utero fundraising genius scored quite the loot. The living room was happily trashed with packaging by the time we finished-- yay for all her benefactors! I had to assemble the crib just to have a storage pen of sorts until we get her room set up. She received everything from the mattress and sheets to books and toys and lots of things necessary to diaper, dress, and breastfeed a baby. We can now Ergo-carry her, electronically swing her, and In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida her to sleep. What more could a baby girl want??

Hands down, the best part (YES, even better than the Fuegos cake) was the keepsake Darla put together. It's full of personal notes from family and friends (all YOU wonderful people!). We loved the variety! Some people wrote to the baby, some to us; it included advice, encouragement, stories, a reality-based fairy tale, cards, photos (even some embarrassing ones from high school!), and a full appendix of Calvin and Hobbes cartoons meant to prepare and/or terrify us-- courtesy of my ever-helpful big brother. As if all that creativity weren't enough, one of the pages directed us to a virtual shower thrown for us by a few of our friends back in Atlanta, which we were totally tickled by. (Be forewarned: I'm rating it PG for mild transvestism and one graphic depiction of a Balukonis diaper explosion that I was unfortunate enough to witness on my last visit to Atlanta.) In short, we LOVE this little book; it's clear people put a lot of thought into their contributions and that's so endearing! Darla did save a few pages for us to add anything that arrives separately, so I'll be including other cards and notes that come in.

At the time of posting this, I've put away books, blankets, toys and started washing all the outfits and diapers. But naturally, a couple things needed to be highlighted (not that I'm playing favorites with gifts that happen to have adooooorable little hedgehogs on them...)

Again, many thanks to everyone!!!

more baby dropping ahead...

So today, Roswitha the Midwife said that the baby's head is nice and low and engaged, but she hasn't dropped all the way into the pelvic girdle. I know the belly bump has definitely sunk downwards, and my lower back and hips are feeling the weight and pressure quite differently now, but I have a long trunk and was carrying her high previously. So maybe she just slid down a bit? Technically though, according to Roswitha the Midwife, she remains un-dropped. (So CPS can rest easy for now.)

Roswitha the Midwife also informed me that there was no way me eating spicy food could cause her little amniotic swimming pool to be infiltrated with chemicals that would burn her eyes. After she was done laughing and looking at me with a mixture of pity and astonishment that a soon-to-be mother could be so dumb, her German accent hit new levels of drill sargeant as my attention was directed to one of those beautifully graphic posters depicting fetal development. I then received an in-depth anatomy lesson on umbilical cords and other such things. At the end of my tutorial, when I tried to ask "Well, if she can't taste it, then why does she go so crazy when I eat spicy foods?" I got a slightly unrelated explanation about chocolate and blood sugar and the distinct impression that I might want to bite my ignorant tongue lest I provide even more fodder for coffee break midwifery gab sessions.

As it was, my appointment ended with Roswitha the Midwife patting my cheek reassuringly as if to say, "Don't worry, children usually survive inept parents surprisingly well."

I really think I should have stuck to hedgehogs.

I dropped the baby

But I think she's okay? Seems to have survived the short fall fairly well, although it does seem extra traumatic that she went headfirst...

Regardless, now that my lungs and stomach have regained a bit of territory, I guarantee you they will NOT be letting anyone intrude again for a long time-- reports indicate they've joined forces in an Organ Alliance (OA). They're currently recruiting my liver and spleen to help apply diplomatic pressure in hopes of curbing the uterus' recent hegemonic activity. Plans are in place to construct additional ribs to close off the territory from below and ensure protection from future invasion.

Meanwhile, inside sources expect the uterus to continue holding the bladder captive for at least a few more weeks-- sensationalist ransoms tend to increase negotiating power. This positioning is causing a lot of tension and nervous factioning within the OA; no one knows whether the bladder will be released alive. Its death would constitute a significant, prominently noted loss, so there is serious internal debate over conducting a rescue mission, not to mention the growing concern about the perineum territory (whose sovereignty is increasingly threatened) and the precedent set by not responding to the public torture and distress of the bladder... what will the uterus attempt next??

Furthermore, despite their sudden retreat after 35 weeks of steadily gaining ground, uterine forces are showing an increased determination to flex their power in large displays of might. These sudden, random strikes of terror (while mostly harmless) have convinced the OA that it would be dangerous to write off the uterus merely because its presence is less pressing; it seems more likely that this new staging is merely a tactical regrouping before a large strike. Thus it is critical for the OA to retain a united front and not grow distracted by the appearance of relative peace in the short-term. We shall see how this all plays out over the next month or so.

As for the baby-- the little mastermind behind the uterine strategic forces-- she seems to hold a blatant disregard for political advisors, public opinion polls, diplomatic sanctions, and statistical analysis/influence. The first indication of this was her unilateral decision to be a girl in the first place, when she ought to have been a boy. Then, as I mentioned above, she had the entire OA suffering for months from her unprecedented, relentlessly brutal foreign invasion. She's also continued to engage in chemical (hormonal) warfare despite unanimous protesting and negative publicity. And now she's singlehandedly comandeered this shift in forces which is NOT in accordance with previously recognized timelines or expectations. She was not supposed to drop until the nice, happy average of 3 weeks before labor, which should take place at the nice, happy average of 40 weeks, or ideally, 8 days thereafter, which is the nice, happy average arrival date for first babies. On whole, her actions are making everyone a little nervous, because if you ask me, she seems like an irrational dictator type that just might launch the atomic labor bomb all because some spice from a meal gets into her amniotic fluid and makes her eyes burn a wee bit. Yes indeed, whether or not the attack is imminent, I am quite aware of its impending doom.

P.S. As an afterthought, let's hope I never have to use that title for a post again. (...and let's hope using it this time doesn't result in CPS showing up on my doorstep...)