Five things about Oliver

At 28 1/2 months.

1. He asks "What is it?" about a million times a day.  It makes me want to scream by bedtime, especially when we're reading Dr. Suess's Oh, the Thinks You Can Think, and I'll be darned if I know what some of those things are.  The only thing scarier than this is the "Why?" phase.
2. He has had no regression with potty training since baby came.  He's in underwear every day, all day.  He sometimes wears a pull-up during nap time at daycare, but his teachers say he's usually dry when he wakes up.  I think it'll be some time before we do potty training overnight, but for now this is a big step.
3. He goes back and forth between being totally independent and helpful -- putting on socks and shoes and his jacket and hat and letting the dog out and getting a blanket for Emme -- and being totally helpless and obstinate -- refusing to use the potty unless I physically put him on it and refusing to leave the zoo unless I carry him out.  I drives me crazy sometimes, and I feel like this nuts lady who switches at the drop of a hat between "Ms. Discplinarian" and loving mother.  It doesn't help when he gets upset and cries, "Daddy!" (who is inevitably at work).
4. He is adorable with Emmeline.  I keep trying to get a good picture or a few seconds on video, but as soon as I get out the camera, he says, "What is it?" (See #1.)  He talks to her and worries about her and gives her a kiss at night if she's in the room.  He likes to "fix" her chairs, which basically means snapping all of the buckles such that I have to undo them when I go to put her in them (See #3.)  He's doing great as a big brother -- so far.
5. He still loves, loves, loves the outside.  We had really beautiful weather this weekend, in the 60s both days.  We went to the park on Saturday and the zoo on Sunday (just me and the kids).  He had a great time and didn't want to leave either place.  It's one of his better qualities -- rain, snow, sleet, or hail, he wants to be outside.

Sweet Pea and Big G

Oliver likes to hold her.  The Boppy seems to help.

I love it when she's alert like this.

Now or later

When Oliver was born with congenital cutis aplasia, Wes read a lot about the condition so that he would know more about its causes and treatment.  Ollie spent two days in the NICU getting antibiotics because I was GBS positive and didn't get the meds in labor, and the doctors were worried that the combination of open skin lesions and lack of antibiotics put him at higher risk for contracting Strep B.  Fortunately, he was just fine, and a series of ultrasounds and visits from pediatric neurologists and even a neurosurgeon confirmed that his head was completely normal -- he was just missing the skin in two places.  Today, he has two thick scars on the back of his head, hardly noticeable at quick glance because of his white-blonde hair.  He wears a hat in all weather when he's outside to protect the scars -- and his super-fair complexion -- from the sun.  A month or so ago, we saw the ENT for a follow-up on his tubes, and the surgeon helpfully referred us to -- and scheduled an appointment for us with -- a plastic surgeon who specializes in cranio-facial and other scalp malformations.  (Clearly within the realm of what an ENT should concern himself with.)  I cancelled the appointment as Wes and I had previously decided to wait to do anything about the scars until Ollie was a bit older.

When Emme was born two weeks ago, Wes and I immediately looked at the back of her head (and laughed at each other for doing so).  And very quickly, Wes noticed the lesion -- only one, much smaller, and already half formed over.  Another week or so in the womb, and she might have been born with almost nothing noticeable there.  We both were and weren't surprised.  Nothing we'd read suggested that this condition would repeat in subsequent children.  No one in either of our families has had this or anything like it.  But clearly, there's something in the mix of our DNA that causes this.  Fortunately, it's subcutaneous only.  Emme, however, was born with her own additional skin deformation.  She has several congenital nevi on her body -- one small but dark spot on her left shoulder, a very large, dark and mottled band on the top of her right foot and around her right ankle, and several satellite spots, much lighter, on her right calf.  We learned a little about them from the neonatologist who saw her right after her birth, and yesterday, upon a referral from her pediatrician, she saw a pediatric dermatologist, who told us a lot more.  (Random side note: Turns out the dermatologist (Class of '77), plus his resident (Class of '02 or '03), also went to Davidson.  Four adults in a dermatology clinic in Nashville, TN, and they all went to the same, very small college.  Strange, but less so when you consider how many academic physicians Davidson turns out.)

The biggest concern with the nevi is that they can become melanoma.  The incidence of melanoma among Caucasians is 1-2%.  Small cases of congenital nevi carry a risk of 3-5% by adulthood, with most cases occurring in adulthood.  Large cases carry a risk of 5-10% with 3-5% occurring before the age of ten.  This time, it seems, we won't be able to wait.  We've been referred to a plastic surgeon, whom we'll see next Friday, to talk about doing a procedure to remove at least the large nevus on her right foot and ankle, which is the area that poses the greater risk.  The dermatologist described the procedure generally.  She'll be put under some anesthesia and have a balloon implanted in the healthy skin just above the nevus.  It will then be filled with saline every week for several weeks to stretch the healthy skin, just like what happens when a woman's pregnant belly stretches for a growing baby.  Once there is enough healthy tissue available, she'll have a surgery to remove the nevus and replace it with the healthy skin.  I hate to think of her going through this, but from a medical standpoint, it's pretty straightforward and relatively low-risk and low-pain.  It also minimizes the scarring.  The small nevi we can either treat at the same time or just watch over the years to make sure there's no change in the texture or thickness, which would be an indication of melanoma forming.  Wes and I are hoping it can be done this summer, when I'm home with her full time, so that no other caregiver has to monitor her during the process.

Dr. Smith also talked to us a little about our options for Oliver's head.  He said that it's probably best to wait until 3 or 4 years old, when the skull is fully formed and the fontanel is completely closed.  He can then undergo a straight excision and suture of the two spots, which will leave him with tiny scars that will be hidden by hair.  (Right now, the hair grows around the scars, which are each about the size of a nickel, but doesn't cover them.  It make a really interesting hair pattern in back!).  The dermatologist said it's a good age to get it taken care of, before kids start to really pick up on those kinds of differences and tease each other.  So it's something we'll consider in a year or so.  Emmeline likely won't need anything at all done, as her spot is much smaller and won't scar as thickly because it was already forming in at birth.

I think it goes without saying that I think my kids are beautiful and don't think they need to do anything at all, now or later.  I hope that my children are secure enough to wear their differences proudly and see how amazing they are, inside and out.  However, I know what kids can be like and how difficult it can be on a child to have such noticeable differences.  I'm probably more attune to it for Emmeline as a girl, knowing how, at some age, she's likely to be embarrassed or not want to wear certain clothes or shoes because of what it shows.  Part of me wishes we could wait on all of this until later, when my kids could choose for themselves what they want done.  But realistically, Emme's nevi pose some health risks that we need to consider.  And Ollie's scars are probably better dealt with before he's really aware of them and at an age when kids heal so much faster.  Wes and I feel lucky that both Ollie and Em are so healthy, despite these strange congenital issues.  I hate the thought of either of them suffering to have them fixed, especially if only for aesthetic reasons, but then, I guess that's part of motherhood.

This just in

Emmeline does not like pacifiers.  I actually tried to get both my children to take a pacifier, what with their non-stop nursing, and neither was convinced.  

Emmeline, so far

Emme has been with us in the world for 10 days now.  It's hardly enough time to get to know someone, but here's my best effort at how she's been so far.  For one thing, she's a peanut.  She's the same size as Oliver was when he was born, but she just seems so small (or maybe Oliver just seems so big).  She sleeps around 3-4 hour stretches but has had up to 5 hours, though not at night.  She nurses well.  We had some latch issues at first that made things pretty uncomfortable, but it's better now.  And I have a good supply -- there's probably 30-40 ounces in the freezer already, and two bottles in the refrigerator for the babysitter tomorrow.  Her nursing sessions are extended, though.  She nurses on one side, falls soundly asleep, then wants to nurse again ten minutes later.  I'm usually up almost an hour when I nurse at night.  She does have nice alert periods.  She picks up her head and gazes around.  She gets wrinkles in her forehead just like Ollie did and just looks so contemplative.  She was up for almost five hours, with maybe just a catnap yesterday, but I think it's because she has a little cold -- very sneezy and lots of mucus.  I got a humidifier today, and I've been using some children's saline wipes that somebody at work put in Wes's box.  When she's awake after naps, she's in a very good mood and is willing to lay on the bed or in her lamb chair and just be.  She does really like to be held, though, and she's spent increasing amounts of time in the wrap and carrier so that I can get things done.  She's started having more and more involuntary smiles in her sleep, which I love to see.  I can't decide if she has any dimples yet.  She absolutely hates to have her clothes and diaper changed, and she gets quite loud when either is done, though I think she's starting to get used to it.

As for looks, she's really different than what we expected.  She's so much darker complected than Oliver with his pale skin, pink cheeks, and blonde hair.  I honestly thought she'd look more like I did as a baby, and I'm not really sure who she does look like.  Her eyes are a deep, dark blue, so it's hard to know what they'll end up as.  She has thin lips compared to Oliver, but a similar chin and nose and brow.  She has some decent hair, but it's much darker than I would have thought.  Her eyelashes and eyebrows are coming in.  She has long, delicate, thin fingers, nothing like my beefy farmhand hands.  To us, of course, she is lovely, but in reality, she looks like just about any other newborn baby.    

We are all enjoying having her finally here.  I've yet to have a moment of wishing she were back inside me.  Wes has finally gotten some moments to snuggle.  I feel like he'd gotten to spend a lot more time with Ollie at this age, but household disasters and the presence of said first child and work have limited his time.  He did get a little face (or shoulder) time with her today during the football games.  Oliver also asks to "hold it," and now that I've introduced the Boppy to the setup, he likes to look at her and laugh.  She has her playpen and lamb chair in the living room, so she's in the mix of everything happening.

So that's our sweet girl.  So far.

A speedier delivery

Emmeline's umbilical stump fell off yesterday, which meant she was able to get her first real bath.  It almost means she's been home for more than a few days, which means a recounting of her delivery is most certainly overdue.  So here's the story.

I'd been having contractions, cervical pressure, even some rectal pressure for weeks leading up to delivery day.  I honestly began expecting an imminent delivery around 37 weeks, which is probably why it seemed like I was so late, when in reality Emme was born pretty much right on time.  So when I spent Wednesday afternoon feeling more uncomfortable than usual, I thought it was just another stage in the wait-and-see game.  By Wednesday night, though, the contractions, as I finally recognized them to be, were consistent enough that I started noting the time.  They were 15 minutes or more apart, irregular, and nothing that had me completely convinced.  I tried to sleep, but the contractions kept waking me up, so I moved upstairs to the nursery so that I wouldn't both Wes.  I tracked the contractions on and off with a timer on my iTouch.  Sometimes they were 10 minutes apart, sometimes more than 20.  I rested between then, but I didn't really get any sleep.  Many of them were painful, not just uncomfortable, and I was breathing, even groaning, through them.  By morning, they were 6-8 minutes apart.  Wes got up, got ready, and in my short time alone with Oliver, we decided he should go to daycare as I was going to get no downtime if he were to stay home.  I called the midwife, who assured me I could wait awhile to come in, and my mother, whom we asked to travel up if the roads were safe enough.  In the time I was up with Oliver and making phone calls, I got worried that the contractions seemed to drop off.  I would still have a painful one every once in  awhile, but some seemed really far apart.  It's like my labor was stalling.

I tried to go to sleep after Wes took Oliver to daycare, but once again, things were consistent enough to keep me awake.  I finally gave up and got in the bathtub, hoping it would give me some relief and either stop things all together or speed them up.  After I got out, I finished packing my hospital bag (which I'd gotten out the night before) and sat down in the rocking chair in the living room and started watching Anne of Green Gables (from which Emmeline's name comes).  My mom arrived.  Wes went in to work for a meeting, then came home and took a conference call.  The labor continued on as previously -- sometimes close together, sometimes a long time between them.  I was getting frustrated, feeling like nothing was as I expected or had experienced with Oliver.  I felt like I didn't know what to do.  Around 2pm, Wes pushed me to go to the hospital.  I was hesitant but knew I couldn't spent another 12 to 24 hours in this state and still have the energy to push a baby out.  So I called the midwife on call and instead got the triage nurse in the office.  She said I could go to the hospital or I could go to the office and get checked.  I didn't want to go home from the hospital because I wasn't far enough progressed, so I elected to go get checked in the clinic.

Wes and I got out of the house around 3pm.  I had one contraction in the waiting room (and was worried I was scaring the other very pregnant, but not laboring, woman there), then sat on the monitor for awhile with none.  I figured the midwife was going to think I was nuts, insisting I was in labor or even uncomfortable with so few contractions.  She talked about my options if I wasn't ready to head to the hospital -- including some "therapeutic rest" (which I think means some narcotics so I could sleep).  But then she checked me -- and I was 8cm, 0 station, 100% effaced with a bulging bag of waters.  She said as soon as my water broke, I would be ready to push.  And so we were off.

When I got to the check-in desk at the hospital, the woman behind the desk seemed in disbelief that I was there to have a baby.  I assured her that labor and delivery was expecting me, and she sent me back.  The nurses in L&D laughed when they saw me coming in.  They said, "We sure are impressed with Miss Elizabeth, walking in here like that at an 8."  They made me feel good about my progress, after such a strange labor.  I got changed into a gown, hooked up to a monitor, and had an IV put in so that I could receive the antibiotics for my GBS.  They asked me lots of questions -- "Highest level of education?"  Umm, still going.  The midwife came and saw me.  They weren't going to move along my labor -- by breaking my water, for example -- because they wanted me to get at least some antibiotic first.  There were no other laboring patients from the clinic, so the midwife sat with me for parts of the next hour.  She was very encouraging, told me I made it all look easy.  The contractions got slightly more regular and a little more painful.  I groaned through each contraction.  After about 6-8 of them, I started to feel pressure.  After a few more, the midwife offered for me to move, and I said I wanted off my back.  They laid the table down, and I immediately felt an overwhelming urge to push.  And so it was time.

With Oliver, I never felt the urge to push.  I got to the hospital, they told me I was complete, and they encourage me to start pushing because the situation seemed emergent.  I had to get myself to push.  This time, there was no way I could have not pushed.  The urge was so strong.  Melissa, the midwife, checked me with the next contraction and told me I could start.  And then, I couldn't stop.  I pushed so hard and couldn't get myself to stop between contractions.  I held tight to Wes's hand and just pushed and pushed.  There was a little screaming, a swear word, and a lot of self-help talk -- "We can do this.  We can do this."  (I think the "we" was me and the baby.  I don't know.)  I knew it was only going to last so long, but this pain was definitely more than I had with Oliver.  It was just all coming so fast.  There is no possible way to describe the feeling of pushing a baby out.  It feels like your body just can't possibly fit this thing out.  It hurts.  And then it's amazing.  Her head came out, and everyone told me to look down.  And strangely enough -- there was a baby there.  One I didn't recognize but that clearly was mine -- since about half of her was still inside of me.  They pulled her out and put her on my chest.  They left the cord attached until it stopped pulsing and then cut the cord.  Wes and I immediately started looking her over, both at her head, and laughed at each other for doing it.  He spotted the aplasia before I did, and though we both feared the possibility, we weren't worried when we saw it.  We knew what it was, and it clearly wasn't as serious as Oliver's case (only one spot, and almost filling in).  They let her sit with me for a little while before taking her to be examined.  Wes went with her as there were other concerns, including some skin abnormalities, and midwife tried to give me some time before putting in a few stitches.  They had some trouble getting me to stop bleeding.  I ultimately got Pitocin, Cytotec, and Methergine all to help with that.  My uterus was firm, but I was loosing large clots of blood even into the next day.  They brought Emme back to me so that I could nurse.  We had to stay in the delivery room until my bleeding was under control.  The nurse got me out of bed eventually so that I could go to the bathroom (an experience that made me very sympathetic for the my potty-training toddler, who is constantly watched to make sure he pees).  I got woozy on my way back to the bed, so they got me some applejuice.

We finally made it post-partum around 8pm.  Wes went with Emme to the nursery to get weighed and measured and have a pediatrician check her out.  They were gone awhile, and it was after 9pm by the time they got back.  Wes ended up staying the night at the hospital so that he could help me if I got woozy again, but I ended up being fine that night.  Emme slept okay, and it was mostly the endless parade of nurses, care providers, and other people checking on us that kept me from really resting.  The rest of the stay was largely uneventful.  I saw Emme's pediatrician, the lactation consultant, and the midwife the next day.  My mom and Oliver came over in the morning to meet the baby.  Wes spent Friday evening with us and then went home to sleep and came back for us the next day.

Wes asked me Thursday night if I would do it without pain medication again for the next baby, if I had to make the choice right in that moment.  And I said I would, if I were able to.  My labor this time was very, very bearable because the contractions were spaced so far apart.  But for the duration -- about 18 hours before delivery -- I never had a moment when I thought, "I wish I'd gotten an epidural."  And by the time the pain of delivery was there, it was way too late to consider that option.  And as intense as it is, there's a brief recognition of -- "Hey, that thing that really, really hurts down there is my kid coming out." And that's just cool.  

I'm coming home

Emme and I came home from the hospital on Saturday around 3pm. They made us stay almost a full 48 hours from delivery because I was GBS positive and didn't get the full dose of antibiotics while in labor. Wes and I have established a tradition of sorts (if you can call it that with just two children) of picking out a witty t-shirt for each kid to wear home from the hospital. It does not get passed down to younger siblings, but instead goes into that store of items that we will give to each child when they are older and perhaps expecting themselves. Oliver's shirt said, "I wasn't born yesterday." Emmeline's says, "I am not a boy." She's the first granddaughter, so I thought that was appropriate.

My sister has pointed out to me that this hat perhaps does not "go" with these pants, but I thought it was fun. Almost everything is too big on her right now, but this hat fits snugly. She wore it out another day last week and everyone commented.

Our new normal

Emmeline's birth, a pictorial

Oliver visiting with me while Wes was in the shower.  His last morning to be the "baby" in the family.  I had been up laboring all night and was in no shape to be dealing with a toddler's morning antics!

At the hospital getting checked in.  I was getting penicillin and being monitored.

In her bassinet once we moved to post-partum.

Oliver meeting Emmeline.  He brought the sheep and blanket as a gift to her, but he wasn't willing to part with them once he got there.  

Having trouble with her hospital hat.

Looking at the world from inside her bassinet.

Paging Dr. Self

Although we have our fair share of baby stuff, one thing we have never had is a monitor. Our condo in Chicago -- and even our house here in Nashville -- was small enough that it seemed ridiculous to have one. In the house, I can hear Oliver when he fusses or moves around. His waking time -- and the accompanying noise above our heads in his bedroom -- is so regular that we refer to it as the "G alarm," as in, "I don't have to be up at a specified time tomorrow, so I'll just use the G alarm." Yesterday, the alarm -- or the volume or something -- went awry.

Wes and I went to bed at a reasonable hour. I was up every few hours with Emme but sound asleep mid-morning. When we woke up, I was shocked to see that it was 8:30 (as Ollie normally gets up by 7:30am at the latest). I was also confused to hear the house phone making an unusual sound. Not a ring, but something like it. Wes got up and looked, and the it looked like the paging function was being used. I pushed the "End" button and it stopped. The thought crossed my mind that Ollie had the other phone, but a quick check by Wes found his bedroom door closed and nothing obviously out of sorts by the desk in the nook. A few minutes later, I heard Oliver chattering, and Wes went up to get him ready.

He found him, however, standing on the desk with the house phone in hand (evidently, it was him who paged us.  It was also him who, last week, called my cell phone from Wes's phone.  My admonition that Ollie should not play with Wes's cell phone had clearly not been heeded).  He had taken a sheet of smiley stickers and put them all over his pajamas.  Further probing revealed his bedroom rug curled tightly in a roll off to the side of his room, the mat folded neatly on the other side.  He'd also evidently pulled the chairs from the play table in Emme's room up to the dresser and gone through her clothes, throwing a few favorites (least favorites?) on the floor.

We already have a doorknob lock on the door, which Ollie has no learned to use.  I hesitate to "lock" him in his room with anything more secure, but I also worry about what could have and could still happen were he to get out like that again without us hearing.  

Dear Husband, Part 52

Yesterday, the four of us (four!) went to Lowes to make some decisions -- and purchases, even -- for the kitchenette in the apartment. It took us almost 3 hours from the time we got up until we got out the door and into the car. Minutes after we arrived, I took Emme to nurse. Ollie got bored in the shopping cart and then began running around the store, ducking between the aisle we were on and the next one over. I had Emme in the front carrier, and before long (and after a day of cleaning on Friday), my body (those most involved with delivery, let's just say) were sore, and I needed to sit down. After a little more than an hour, we needed to leave. Wes was obviously a little frustrated and disappointed that the experience wasn't more enjoyable as a family outing. But then he looked at the three of us and said, "I guess we do have a week old baby. And you just gave birth."

Um, yeah.

Just carryin' on an old family tradition

Last night, Wes worked a shift that ended at 3am, but thanks to a variety of circumstances, he didn't get home until after 6am, so I decided to get the kids out of the house so that he could sleep.  Oliver was up at 7am, and somehow, we were out the door by 8:30 and off to the Cracker Barrel.  The Cracker Barrel is something of a family tradition for us.  My family didn't do a lot of vacationing, but we did make some long road trips to my grandparents' farm, many of which included stops for breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. My sister and I have always loved their french toast and hot chocolate -- especially when it used to come in a little pot instead of in the mug -- and compare other restaurants' french toast to theirs.  My sister's husband worked there for some time and is a fan of their croutons.  And the Cracker Barrel where we ate this morning is the very same place we had our first meal after moving to Nashville.  It's next to the hotel where we stayed the first night in town while waiting to close on the house.  Ollie and I have carried on the family tradition by eating at Cracker Barrels on our own road trips.  So this morning, Emme made her first trip, too.

I had the french toast and hot chocolate (which I shared).  Oliver had a Wild Maine Blueberry Pancake with orange juice (which he shared).  Emme slept in her stroller.  I made the mistake (intentionally -- I knew he would love it!) of taking Oliver to the John Deere section of the shop area.  He went crazy when he saw all the tractor t-shirts.  My mom got him one for Christmas, and he asks to wear it every single day. I didn't want to get him another t-shirt as he has plenty of clothes, so instead we found him a hat with an adjustable band so that it will fit for awhile.  He peed in the potty and rocked briefly in the rocking chair on the way out.  All in all, it was a nice breakfast and trip out, and I felt proud of myself for coralling everybody and everything by myself to get us in and out without a catastrophe.  May there be more mornings like this!

Tattletale

This morning, Oliver and Lucy were in the living room playing while I was taking a shower.  Ollie came into the bathroom with a very concerned look on his face and reported, with great consternation, "Lucy up on couch."  I told him to go back and tell her, "Get down, Lucy."  Evidently, his efforts failed, as he came back moments later to re-report the situation.

Lucy denies the allegations.

Emme's Facebook status

Emme Mae Self

• Time to make like a baby and head out! (10 days ago).
• is meeting her big brother and Grandma Neiheisel.  Grandma seems to be a fan, Oliver does not (9 days ago).
• is coming home from the hospital.  Can't wait to see my room! (8 days ago)
• spending the day with Hailey at her place since the water is turned off at our place.  Missing mommy, who's in classes, but Hailey's house is way warmer than ours! (5 days ago)
• met my pediatrician today.  Gained 9 ounces since my last weigh-in at the hospital.  Hope it doesn't all go to my thighs (4 days ago).
• My umbilical stump fell off today.  Hope that doesn't happen with any other body parts... (1 day ago).
• is sleeping soundly in the Moby wrap while making perhaps the cutest baby sounds ever (2 hours ago).
• fussing on daddy's chest while he watches the Bears' game (1 minute ago).

His and hers

So I know the last thing a parent is supposed to do is compare their kids, but since a lot of people have asked, here are the basics.  I don't think either of them should feel slighted by this since they had very little to do with these statistics.

Gestation: Oliver was born at 39 weeks by first trimester ultrasound, 40 weeks 1 day by my calculation.  Emmeline was born at 40 weeks 2 days by first trimester ultrasound, 39 weeks 5 days by my calculation.  I think it's fair to say my kids go term.

Time of birth: Oliver was born at 7:32 PM, Emmeline at 5:46 PM.

Labor: Labor with Oliver began with mild contractions in the early morning but became uncomfortable around 8 or 9 AM.  To delivery, I labored for around 10 hours or so.  Emmeline's labor was much more erratic and began being uncomfortable around 11 PM on Wednesday night.  I labored more than 18 hours with her, though there were points in there when things stalled or I got breaks between contractions.

Delivery: I pushed for about 30 minutes with Oliver.  I certainly wouldn't say it didn't hurt, but I got some rest between contractions.  I didn't ever feel a strong urge to push, though, so I was really in control of my pushing.  With Emmeline, I pushed for 15 minutes.  I could feel the urge to push with several contractions, and as soon as laid down on my side, it was overwhelming.  Once I started, it was like I couldn't stop and I had to really work to keep control and stop pushing between contractions so things could stretch for her. And it definitely hurt -- a lot.  I had a simple tear with each, requiring just a few stitches, and all things considered, I felt pretty well 24 hours later and could take short walks without significant discomfort.

Weight and length: Oliver was 7 lbs., 5 oz., and Emmeline is 7 lbs., 4 oz.  I don't have Oliver's length in front of me, but he was right around 20 inches, and she's 19.75 inches.

Apgars: Oliver was 9 and 9, and Emmeline was 8 and 9.  She had a fever at birth (that quickly subsided), so I think that's where we lost a point :)

Disposition: It's hard to compare kids' personalities when the second is only about 36-hours into life, but I would say that in many ways they are similar.  Love to eat, nice long periods of being alert during the day, want to observe all that is around them, squirmy.  She seems to like being held more than Oliver did, but he wasn't with me like this in those first two days, so it's hard to know.

Most importantly, though -- my love for them: Abundant and plentiful.  I still haven't wrapped my head around the fact that I have two kids, that they are siblings, that Wes and I have children, in the plural.  I'm sure the coming days will help me make that realization, though!

My girl

Emmeline Mae was born Thursday, January 13, 2011, 89 years after her paternal great-grandmother, Elizabeth.  She was 7 lbs., 4 oz., and 19.75".  She has dark brown hair, dark eyes, and long, skinny fingers with manicure-ready fingernails.  So far, she is very alert, likes to nurse, and loves to be held.  Welcome, dear daughter.

Come out, come out

My dear friend Kim has made a formal appeal to the baby for her arrival (similar to the one I made to her daughter, who arrived a day or two later).  Feel free to join her by sharing your sentiments with the baby in the comments section.  Perhaps she can read through my abdominal wall and will be moved -- literally -- by your comments.

Weigh In: Week 39 + 2

142.5 lbs.  And baby is still in utero.  I had a midwife's appointment this morning.  I was supposed to be there in the afternoon, but the office called this morning around 9AM to confirm that I was in fact coming to the appointment (a couple of inches of snow here in Nashville, with most roads unplowed).  I said I could come earlier if that would help, and the receptionist said they were pretty slow and I could come on in.  I got a shower, called Wes to let him know I was going in earlier, and he decided to come pick me up and go with me to the appointment (something we'd planned on, but then he had a meeting scheduled for 2PM and wasn't going to be able to come).  The roads were fine where they'd been plowed, but as I found out on the way home, slippery where they haven't yet been.

It turns out that the receptionist had told a lot of people the same thing she told me, and so we did have to wait almost an hour to be seen.  The midwife, one I hadn't seen before, was very nice and apologized for the wait.  She felt my belly and said the baby wasn't especially big, which is something I was starting to worry about (especially important when you want a drug-free delivery!).  Her heartbeat sounds fine, and she is, of course, still head down.  She checked me again, and I'm now 3 cm dilated, well effaced, and the baby's head is right against my cervix.  I did let her strip my membranes.  I had mixed feelings on this going in to the appointment.  I've heard both the pros and cons of having this done.  Those who favor it say that except for the risk of prematurely rupturing the membranes, there are no real risks.  The process basically involves separating the amniotic sac from the edge of the cervix, which releases prostaglandins, which helps initiate labor.  This argument says that it won't put a woman into labor if the baby is not ready for it, and it can provide a gentle nudge to baby if she is ready and just waiting (like this one is!).  Those who are opposed to it say that the risk of rupturing the membranes is very real and problematic, since it puts you "on the clock" -- meaning you have to deliver within 24 hours, even if your body wasn't really ready to go into labor.  It can be uncomfortable, and it can lead to additional interventions that can lead to a c-section that would not have happened had the stripping not happened.  This argument is the norm among the hands-off crowd, who basically don't want any kind of intervention at all.  That said, I felt like I was okay with having it done if the midwife supported it.  This practice is pretty hands-off about these things and wouldn't recommend something they didn't think was a good idea.  So when the midwife mentioned it, I told her that I knew what it was but didn't have a firm opinion on it.  She said she's never ruptured someone's membranes in the process and definitely felt that it couldn't hurt.  Plus, I'm at my due date and my cervix is very favorable for labor, so it would either nudge baby out or do nothing at all.  It wasn't really that uncomfortable, and I don't feel any different than I did before except for losing some bloody show, which is expected after the stripping.  I've of course done lots of Googling since I got home, and it sounds like for most women, it either gets things going in the next 24-36 hours or does nothing at all.  So we'll see!  I think the midwife felt better that we live so close to the hospital, so we're not putting ourselves at risk of having to brave the bad roads for a long drive if it in fact works.  I have an appointment set for next Monday, when I'll be almost 41 weeks by the midwife's EDD.  If I have to keep the appointment and am still pregnant at that point, we'll schedule an induction for the middle or end of next week.  Neither Wes nor I, based on what we've read, are comfortable going past 42 weeks based on the best EDD, and I would prefer to induce on a Wednesday or Thursday to give me the longest stretch of time out of class and with Wes at home.  I don't know why, but having this in place makes me feel better.  I know I might still be pregnant next Monday, but then I'll be at my last appointment before the baby is born.  Now, finally, there is an end in sight.

Tomorrow is my official due date by first trimester ultrasounds, 1-11-11.  I would be very excited if she were to make her arrival then -- and if not, Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday.  My sister and her husband are supposed to visit this coming weekend, and while I know they're looking forward to seeing Oliver (and maybe me and Wes a little bit), I'd feel a lot better if they got to see the baby, too.

You asked for it

I took Oliver into the bathroom this evening around 7pm (for the umpteenth time today), and he slipped on one of the rugs, rubbed his eyes, and said, "Oliver take a nap."  Twenty minutes later he was in bed, and we haven't heard a thing.  Looks like this transition to no nap in the afternoon might necessitate an earlier bedtime.

Okay by me.

Three years ago today...

I wrote my first post for this blog.  I didn't post until weeks later, after there had been ultrasounds and a midwife's appointment to confirm that I was, in fact, pregnant and the baby was viable.  I had hoped that today would bring another first and new beginning, but nope -- still here on the couch.  But very cool that I've been blogging here for three years now!  Thanks for reading, those who do.

Kiss on the cheek

At some point when Oliver was younger, I started giving him kisses on the mouth and he eventually learned to return them.  As such, he's only ever known how to give kisses on the mouth.  Yesterday, Oliver wanted another kiss from Wes before he left for work, and he said, "Kiss on the cheek."  So he ran to the front door and gave Wes another kiss.  He did the same at bedtime, only this time I realized what he was doing.  Oliver's "kiss on the cheek," which he must have learned at school, involved him putting his cheek next to the recipient's cheek and then making a kissing sound.  Kiss on the cheek, indeed.

The watched pot

I am not in labor.  Just in case anyone is wondering and might be tempted to call and ask, I just want to repeat, I am not in labor.  I promise not to secretly birth and parent a child without telling friends and family.  So the baby is not here yet.  I am sitting at home, on my couch, in front of the television, contemplating a nap and maybe a movie later this afternoon.

I repeat, not in labor.

Adventures in Potty Training, and Wow!

Yesterday morning, Oliver gave my mother a hard time and somehow ended up in underwear.  He got up from bed dry (which I think had more to do with a lack of fluids than any restraint on his part), so she put him in the underwear to induce him to pee in the potty.  We sent him to daycare with spare pants and underwear to a supportive but somewhat skeptical classroom teacher.  I picked Oliver up at almost 5pm and found him, to my surprise, in the same pants and underwear.  He had a lot of juice when he got home and then, despite my best efforts, ended up wetting himself twice -- the first time quite a bit before I could get him to the potty, the second time just dampening the underwear -- and so we switched back to a pull-up for the rest of the evening (which stayed dry until bedtime).

I let him wear underwear to school again today.  I don't know if this will continue, but he's really excited about the underwear (Disney and Dora the Explorer themed, none of which he recognizes, but still) so we'll use it to our advantage.  Here's hoping my couch and rug make it through in tact.

Adventures in Potty Training, And so on

I'm happy to say that Oliver is doing really well with potty training.  After such a hit and miss beginning, then regression, I'm excited to say that he's getting close to the point of spending his waking hours in underwear.  We've been doing pull-ups during the day so that he can use the bathroom easily, and most days we go through one or two, so I don't feel as bad that he's not in the cloth.  He still wears a cloth diaper to bed and sometimes for his nap if he hasn't peed recently before going down.  He didn't do as well at daycare on Thursday and Friday, I heard, but I figured the transition back after being gone for a week would be a little challenging, especially since my parents had just left on Thursday, and he loves being with them so much.

Ollie has a pretty good process.  He can go into the bathroom, get his pants and pull-ups down, sit and pee, and get all the way to the point of needing the basin rinsed without requiring any help.  Granted, he normally gets supervised anyway.  He rarely initiates the potty himself, but he goes very quickly after being told to sit down if he needs to, so as long as I watch the clock and his fluid intake, he stays dry all day.  Very often for two hours or so, and even sometimes through naps.

Pooping has been the biggest challenge.  He almost always tells me right after he's gone.  And the last few days he's been constipated, with really small, hard stools.  But then tonight, about ten minutes after he'd peed in the potty, he said he needed to potty again.  So I took him in, set him down, and went back to the kitchen and told him to yell for me when he needed.  Five minutes later, he was still sitting there, pretty red cheeked.  Mom went in and confirmed that she thought he was trying to poop.  And a few more minutes later, the smell in the bathroom indicated our suspicions were correct.  He's clearly started to loosen up, and he'd finally -- FINALLY -- pooped in the toilet, not to mention having initiated the visit.  Lots, lots of excitement, I tell you.

So we're not "there" yet.  I want a few more days like this before I risk my couch and rugs to underwear.  And his daycare teacher has said she's willing to try them at school with him when we're ready to do it both places.  It's going to have to stay prominently on my radar if we don't want to lose ground when the baby comes, but I think he could be close to being daytime trained.

Yay, Oliver!

Weigh In: Week 38

142 lbs.  And still pregnant.  I had a midwife's appointment on Friday.  They asked if I wanted to be checked, and I said yes.  Normally I don't want to know how far dilated or effaced I am.  I prefer just to go with how I'm feeling as an indicator.  But with the GBS and knowing I need to be there a few hours early, I wanted to know if I was starting from 0 or had made a little progress already.  The midwife said I was 2 cm and soft, and the baby was low but still could come down a little.  She didn't think it would be this weekend, and now that it's Saturday night, that prediction seems ever more likely.  My next appointment with them is on Monday, January 10, the day before my due date, per their estimation (which puts me at 39 weeks on Tuesday).  Oliver was 39 weeks based on his EDD by first trimester ultrasound, and if this one comes at the same gestational age, she would be born on my younger sister's birthday.  Perhaps that's what she's waiting for.

I am a little bigger, a little rounder, a little more uncomfortable, and ever more ready for her to be here.  My parents visited last Tuesday until Thursday, at which point they drove home and my mom came back on Friday to stay the weekend while Wes works overnights, just in case.  I took advantage of the extra kitchen help (and, for my father, toddler-wrangling help) to do a LOT of cooking.  Before Oliver was born, I made two lasagnas that we froze and ate later.  This time, I went BIG.  Wes and I bought a chest freezer for the garage, and I am doing my utmost to fill it.  Currently there: two sausage lasagnas, two spinach lasagnas, two batches of white chicken chili, two batches of beef chili, one batch of chicken tortilla soup (the other in the refrigerator for us to eat this weekend), one black bean vegetable bake (the other in the refrigerator for later this week), and half a dozen cornbread muffins.  Tomorrow ia posole day, with two batches to be frozen.  That's a lot of food, people.  But I think it will make a big difference in how healthy we eat over the course of this semester.  I am very thankful to have had mom here to help me dice probably 16 onions, mince garlic, and chop peppers.  We had the chicken tortilla soup for dinner tonight, and while I think it could use some more spice, it was pretty good (and Ollie ate and loved it, which is always a bonus).  Oh, and we also made pumpkin bread today, which yielded three medium loaves, two of which have also been frozen.  The chest freezer, in addition to housing these items, will likely get some frozen rolls, perhaps some pizzas, and eventually (I hope) lots of bags of breast milk.

Other than that, nothing else seems to be cooking.  I keep hoping each day that I am nearing her arrival (and of course, that's always true, though not as imminently as I'd hoped).  I made a lunch date with two classmates for Tuesday, and my first official class of the semester is a week from Thursday, January 12, so I do sincerely hope it's not too much longer.  The good news is that her delay -- if it's even fair to call it that -- has allowed me to do all the errands, stocking up, cooking ahead, and cleaning that I could possibly do (or that is reasonable I guess, as I could always do more).  Ollie has had time and attention at home.  Even Lucy got a short walk today.  And tonight, Wes works his last shift for the next three weeks.  Seems as good a time as any, doesn't it?

Here's hoping my next Weigh In is a post-partum one!