It's been awhile . . .

This isn't going to be an eloquent post, but I need to get something down.

Greta turned 3.5 a few days ago. Lydia is nearly 15 months old. Time is flying.

I can't believe how much these girls are growing and changing every day. Greta started preschool in September and is becoming more independent and competent all the time. It is getting fun to have conversations with her and to see her opening up to new adults and children. Last week, she threw up just before preschool (carsickness) and so I needed to bring her to work with me because she couldn't go to preschool. She did a phenomenal job of staying quiet while my students took their exams, talking in whispers to me and very quietly narrating her activities as she was drawing pictures on the floor near my desk. And yet, when it came time for me to have lunch, or for us to greet children in the hallway, she was vocal and excited and ready to chat with any adult who engaged with her. It is so exciting to see her carrying on conversations with new adults and older children -- holding her own in a conversation without needing her mama to interpret or translate very much at all.

Lydia took her first steps today! She has been cruising and using various pushtoys for awhile now but today she actually took independent steps. She's not going to be my baby for long -- soon she will be a toddler!

In Lydia's vocabulary:
Bath
Splash
Boom
Uh Oh
Mama
Tickle
Five (she says this when she is initiating a high five)
Boo-Boo (for "Peekaboo")

I think what surprises me is not her vocabulary but the way interacts with people and things. She tickles herself or someone else and says "Tickle Tickle!" the way that Greta does when she tickles Lydia. She pretends to put on deodorant or brush her hair. If she drops something, she looks at me and says, "Uh oh" and, if she falls she looks sad and says, "Boom." If we are taking her upstairs and it is the evening she starts wiggling and saying "Bath!" It's so crazy to watch this transformation -- to see her initiating interactions and displaying her own thought processes. I had forgotten how amazing this stage is.

I can't believe these are my kids! They are real people -- with thoughts that they are eager to communicate to the world. This is such an exciting time.

In which I realize just how bad I am at updating . . .

Lydia is 4 months old. I had meant to update when she turned 3 months old. I had meant to update when Greta turned 2.5 years old . . . these things did not happen.

Moving on, I am amazed by how big my kids seem to be. Not necessarily in physical size, but in their behavior. Lydia is holding up her head like a champ, can sit and stand with support, and is very chatty in a "squawking" phase. She can roll onto her side from her back, but she can't roll all the way over yet. None of these things are unusual. I think Greta did the same at around the same age, but they still are wonderous to me. She laughs readily and her laughter is sweet and joyful and I just LOVE it. She also still loves baths, which amazes me. I think she has cried in the bath only one time -- ever. Most of the time when I put her in, she looks at me with a shocked expression for a moment, but then she starts smiling.

Lydia is still not a fan of bottles. I can get her to take maybe half an ounce at a time, but that's it. I wouldn't mind it at all if I weren't going back to work . . . but because I'm going back to work, it's a huge stressor.

Greta and I raised Monarchs last summer and she is pretty well obsessed with butterflies and nature. We play games that involve butterflies, and she enjoys telling me all about the life cycle of a Monarch. She often wants to see video of the transformations -- caterpillar to chrysalis, butterfly emerging from chrysalis. Unfortunately, we were out of the house both times our butterflies emerged, and the chrysalis transformations both happened when she was asleep. Bless you, YouTube, for providing me an easy way to share these experiences with my daughter even though our Monarchs didn't cooperate.

Greta is actually a big fan of nature all around. Her favorite book is one called Tracks, Scats and Signs (which she calls her "nature book"). She enjoys being outside and using her new binoculars. Quite frankly, she doesn't really need the binoculars, though, because she has killer vision. She can spot a bird or a nest or a pine cone at a great distance. She enjoys comparing different types of pine needles and examining mushrooms.

She enjoys using pens and scribbling on paper (and, ahem, sometimes other surfaces as well . . . we are working on this), but if you have an opportunity, she is even more eager to draw with someone -- usually instructing an adult to draw a heart and then fill it with the names of various people she knows. The other day, she asked me to draw a Coyote and I made my best attempt. She then asked me to draw its tracks and I hesitated, because I didn't know what they looked like. Seeing my hesitation, she said, "An oval with four toes and two claw points." Thanks, kid.

One of my favorite things about Greta is that, if you have the time to devote to doing things at her speed, she is pretty content to help you with just about anything. Sometimes she just wants to play with her toys, but most of the time, she prefers the company, even if that means helping to unload the dishwasher. Yesterday, we were unloading the dishwasher together when it became apparent that Lydia needed to nurse. I told Greta that we'd have to take a pause because I needed to nurse the baby. I picked up the baby and brought her into the other room to nurse, but Greta didn't follow and I could hear her quietly continuing to empty the dishwasher. This made me exceedingly nervous, but when I got Lydia settled and went back into the kitchen, I found that everything was okay. At first I thought that she had just been rattling things around and not actually attempting to empty it, but then I noticed that the sippy cup parts that had been in the dishwasher basket were gone and that she had placed them on the towel on the counter -- which is where they finish drying. I was impressed! Not only that she was able to unlatch the basket and get out the parts on her own, but also that she was able to reach the kitchen counter! This girl is growin'!

I'm just so happy to have these girls in my life.

Sibling Adjustment

NOTE: This post was made about 3 weeks ago. I keep thinking I've published it, but then it doesn't save. Anyway, there haven't been huge changes to the sibling adjustment in the last 3 weeks, although everyday Greta's pronunciation of Lydia's name sounds like a closer and closer approximation of "Lydia." 

Overall, Greta is adjusting well to being a big sister. She is testing boundaries more often, and she is struggling a bit with the division of our time and attention, but she seems to love her sister and is excited to see her. At first she seemed hesitant about the baby -- she didn't want to touch her or hold her and she would get quiet when asked what the baby's name is. Now she proudly declares that the baby's name is "wih-uh," and is much more interested in engaging with the baby.

Her voice goes up an octave when she is talking to Lydia and gets softer (although when she is talking in vicinity of the sleeping baby, but not directly to her, she tends to get very loud). A favorite activity is to crouch down next to Lydia's bouncer and get REALLY close to her face and talk to her, saying, "Don't cry, baby. Your big sister is right here!" She has asked to hold Lydia a few times, but it's more like me holding her on Greta's lap for a few seconds before she gently pushes Lydia back towards me and says, "Now YOU take her." I had always wanted to recreate a certain photo of my sister holding me on her lap when I was a newborn . . .

Baby Arden and her big sister Michelle

. . . but to recreate such a photo, I'd have to back up enough to hold up a camera -- and so far that would almost certainly result in Greta pushing Lydia onto the floor.

But she is really an awesome big helper most of the time. When it is time to change Lyddie's diaper, she says, "I will get the supplies!" and takes out a diaper and usually several types of diaper cream and arranges them next to the changing mat. She is relentlessly looking for Lydia's pacifier and bringing it to us, even if it was less than six-inches away at the time. She also considers herself an expert on whether or not Lydia wants the pacifier or not -- "Oh no, she doesn't want it," or "She wants her pa!" -- before we've even tried it. If I ask Greta to go ask Ben to bring me a fresh burp cloth, she runs from the room, calling, "Papa! Papa! Mama needs your help!" and then bounces back a minute later, practically dancing with excitement, triumphantly holding a burp cloth with both hands.

In fact, Greta is so helpful that I often forget that she's still a toddler. I have caught myself on several occasions starting to ask Greta to help me with a task that is not age-appropriate.

"Greta, could you get me a glass of icewater while I'm nursing? Oh wait . . . never mind."
"Greta, could you go upstairs to Lydia's dresser and pick out an outfit for her? Oh wait . . . never mind."
"Greta, could you be a big helper and go assemble my manual breastpump and . . . oh wait, never mind."
"Greta, Mama needs to take a shower. Could you take the baby for a moment while I . . . oh wait . . . never mind."

Thankfully, I usually think before I speak and so I get to the "never mind" part before actually making the request aloud.

Overall, she's gotten a crash-course in what it's like to be around a baby and she understands more about breastfeeding than I'd expected. She went through a period of narrating what was happening when I would nurse Lydia: "She is drinking milk. She is drinking milk from your breast. I have milk in a cup, but she is drinking milk from your breast." Holding out my nursing pads, she'd say, "You need these. You need these for your nipples. They will keep you safe."

One time when I was nursing Lydia, Greta was having a hard time not having my attention. She said that she wanted to give her baby doll a bottle, but her baby doll was upstairs. Ben was busy and so I said, "Why don't you find the bottle and get it ready while you wait for Papa to help you get the baby doll?" She paused and then said, "No, I'm going to get the bottle ready, but first I'm going to pump!"

She hasn't attempted to use my Medela, thank goodness. But she has used my breastfeeding pillow to nurse her dolls.

Not having had a younger sibling, I wasn't really sure what to expect. But if things continue along this trajectory, I think we'll be okay!

Lydia's 1 Month Old!

Yesterday Lydia turned 1 month old. I can't believe how fast the time is already flying. When I say that she's 4 weeks old (she turned 4 weeks on Friday), it feels like I still have this tiny little newborn. Now when I say that she is 1 month old, it feels like MY BABY IS GROWING UP TOO FAST.

Aside from losing her umbilical cord stump, growing a slight double chin, and being awake a little more often, the last month hasn't resulted in any extreme changes for her. She is doing the usual eating, sleeping, and pooping. She has some bad gassiness (both farting and burping) which can make her absolutely miserable some of the time. But most of the time, unless she is hungry (she often "goes to eleven" quite fast when she wakes up and realizes she is hungry) or getting a diaper change, she doesn't cry all that much. (I suppose I've just listed all the reasons for young babies to cry -- diaper changes, hunger, gassiness . . . so maybe she cries pretty frequently . . .)

But overall, she's a very sweet baby -- especially from my vantage point when she is lying on my lap after she has just nursed.

Is that not the sweetest post-nursing face? 

She reminds me so much of Greta as a baby. I had really expected to have a completely different experience. I feel like most parents talk about how different their two babies were and so I thought I would always be contrasting the two of them as babies. So far, though, it has felt like a total déjà vu of newborn Greta. The circumstances are different, of course -- different birth, different postpartum experience (I still need to update on that), and of course, different family circumstances, since Lydia has a big sister at home and Greta didn't. And I know that they will become more different from each other as they get older -- or will they become more similar, since Lydia will be raised, in part, by Greta? So I am excited to see how Lydia's personality unfolds and how her babyhood will be different from Greta's. 

Poorly-lit selfie with Lydia.

Poorly-lit selfie with Greta. 

One thing she does besides eating, sleeping and pooping is that she has just become a little more alert during the day. I am borrowing a bouncer and she has begun taking a more active interest in looking at the toys and reacting when she accidentally makes one of them move. 

OMG, Hedgehog! Did you see the raccoon move? Did you do that? 

The bouncer also provides her with a safe place from which to interact with her big sister.

It's hard to see here, but Lydia was watching Greta make faces at her. 

Overall, Lydia is "waking up" a little from her newborn stage. Thankfully, though, she still sleeps quite a bit. Last night, she only had one middle-of-the-night feeding. I can't remember whether that is "okay" now at this stage, or if it's an indicator that she's not eating often enough. We'll be heading in to her one-month check-up on Wednesday, so we can find out then. Overall, I'm much less worried about what is "okay" this time -- I guess that's the advantage of being a second-timer. 

Actually, not so far at all . . .

It was nearly a month after Greta was born that I updated with her birth story. My goal this time around
is to get this birth story up before Piccola turns 2 weeks old.

When last I updated on June 25, I was growing convinced that I was going to be doomed to two or three more weeks of prodromal labor. I had woken up in pain the previous evening and was taking the day to rest. 

At the end of that day, Ben picked me up from home and we went down to his parents' house to have dinner and pick up Greta. On the way there, we talked about how frustrated I was with all the prodromal labor, and how I just wished I knew if all these contractions were doing anything productive. I decided that I would believe that they were -- that the fact that I had that horrible pain the previous night meant that maybe I'd have just a little less pain during labor. He picked me up at 4pm and we arrived at Ben's parents' house around 4:45.Just as we were pulling up into the driveway, I felt a strong contraction that took my breath away. Ben went into the house while I took a moment to breathe. 

I hadn't been inside the house for long before I felt another strong contraction and felt a small gush. I abruptly left the room and waddled to the restroom, concerned that my water was leaking or that I was bleeding. Upon inspection, it was just watery mucus, so I put on a pad and didn't think much of it. 

Throughout the rest of the evening, I continued to have sporadic contractions. I didn't think much of them for awhile, though. I asked Ben to warm up a heating pad for me. I took an opportunity while Greta was getting a bath to take one of my own and timed my contractions as being about 10 minutes apart. I crouched on all fours and rested my head on the couch. By the time I was having a little dessert and found myself doubling over the kitchen counter and swaying, I was starting to wonder if this was the real deal. Greta was scheduled to go to her occasional daycare program the next day, though, and so although it would have made a lot of sense to leave her in the care of Ben's parents for the night, we figured even if it was real labor, it would still be a long time before we went to the hospital. We'd labor throughout the night and drop her off at daycare in the morning. 

We left around 8pm and on the way home, my contractions continued to get stronger. I was wiggling my toes and having a hard time breathing through them. Construction made the trip home extra long and so when we arrived home Ben transferred Greta to her crib and I called the midwife right away at 8:40. I described the strength of the contractions and explained that most of them were around 3 minutes apart, but that some of them were still more like 6 or more minutes apart at that point. She said I should wait to come in to the hospital until they had all been 5 minutes apart for at least an hour. I felt a little skeptical, but, armed with my trusty contraction app, I worked on timing them. 

Ben was making preparations for finding someone who could come stay with Greta for the night and take her to daycare in the morning while I timed my contractions and waited. Sure enough, I had been right to be skeptical -- two hours later, my contractions were getting more and more intense and while they were almost all less than 5 minutes apart, every time I started to come up on one hour of all contractions less than 5 minutes apart, I would get one that would be six minutes or so past the previous one, causing me to restart the clock. Finally, at 10:30, I called the midwife back and said that, although the contractions were still not all 5 min or less apart, I was coming in. I needed support. 

By this time, our friend Flannery had come over to watch Greta. After a few more contractions, I made it down the stairs and out the door. Contractions were stopping me in my tracks on the way to the car, some of them quite long -- what the midwife had termed "coupled" contractions that had no break in-between. Finally, we got in the car and headed out into the night, leaving the driveway at 10:40pm. 

I'm not positive about what time we arrived at the hospital. I would estimate that it was sometime between 11pm and 11:15pm. I was leaning against the doorway of the emergency room entrance having a contraction when someone at the desk noticed me and asked me if I needed a wheelchair. They wheeled me up to labor and delivery and I checked in. At first, the nurse came and took me to triage, which was strange to me because I had bypassed triage when I arrived in labor with Greta. But I suppose since my contractions weren't consistent when I had been on the phone with the midwife, she probably wasn't positive that I would be staying. The nurse went to peek in the room she was supposed to take me to and as she did, a really intense contraction hit. As I was panting and moaning, she whisked me away down another hallway and into a labor room. I asked her later if it was because I was making too much noise (the triage rooms are small and don't really have real doors) and she said it wasn't because of me at all -- there had been another patient in the triage room she'd been directed to take me to! The upshot is that I bypassed triage and was now in a labor and delivery room. As we arrived in the room, I was still timing all my contractions on my phone. The last contraction that I timed (before being hooked up to the monitors) was at 11:25pm. 

The midwife came in and began talking to me about some of my birth wishes. She asked me when I was ready to be checked to let her know. I'm not sure what time she checked me -- probably 10 minutes or so after we arrived in the room and I was hooked up to the monitors. It was a difficult check -- not only did she have me stack my fists, but I had to lift my hips up into the air for her to reach my cervix. I was 3-4 cm, 80% effaced, and the baby's head was at 0 station. My cervix was still very posterior. So barely active labor. After a 28-hour labor with Greta in which my cervix stayed posterior until the very end, this was really bad news to me. Going into this birth, I had already had in the back of my mind that I'd want an epidural if my cervix was still posterior when I arrived at the hospital  -- just because the cervical checks were so awful last time. But at the same time, I hadn't labored at home for very long this time. Last time, I labored at home for hours and hours and arrived at 5 cm dilated. This time, I was in so much more pain that I had come to the hospital much earlier -- maybe my cervix would move soon, I thought. 

Looking at the monitors, the midwife was concerned because the baby's heart rate was decelerating every time I had a contraction. For being only 3-4 cm dilated, this was particularly concerning. She told me that she felt she should warn me now that some of the things I was hoping to avoid (IV, continuous monitoring, pitocin, even cesarean) might be unavoidable. She was very concerned about a potential cord issue. 

There's nothing like the words "cord issue" to bring up my absolute worst birth fears. I tried to process this as quickly as possible and come to terms with how my labor was going to change from my ideal. I asked if this meant I couldn't try for a waterbirth, expecting a brisk confirmation. However, she provided me with many more details about why a waterbirth would be off the table -- that they'd potentially have to get me out of the tub in a hurry, etc. I remember being in so much pain and thinking that I just needed less information from her -- I wanted "just the facts." For me to want a medical professional to be "brisk" means that I must be really out of control of my pain. Normally, I want all the details. The fact that she was giving me all the details (using phrases like "if the baby's heartrate is still decelerating at the time of birth . . .") was an indication to me that she didn't expect me to give birth for awhile and I was starting to wonder if my instincts (which were saying that this baby was coming fast) were wrong and it really was going to be this excruciating for a long, long time. 

Now that I knew that a waterbirth was unlikely I asked if getting an epidural might help the baby by allowing me to relax. I will be honest, I was in a lot of pain. I was ready for some pain relief at this point. But I also was getting frustrated with them telling me to "Breathe! You need to breathe to help your baby's heartrate stay up," during my intense contractions and I was starting to panic that I was going to hurt my baby by not being able to relax. The midwife said it might help, but she couldn't say for sure. 

She suggested the possibility of an IV of fluids to see if that helped support the cord and prevent the baby's heartrate from decelerating. Our conversations at this point were really choppy because I was stopping to have intense contractions. I don't know if I'd agreed to the IV or if we didn't confirm. It was hard to communicate at that point. I asked if I could use the restroom and they unhooked me from the monitors so that I could go. I asked if I could get in the tub and see if that helped me relax. The midwife brought up the IV of fluids again and I remember being very confused because I thought I had already agreed to that. She also asked about keeping up with the continuous monitoring. I asked if I could do these things while in the tub and she said I could. I said, "Yes, yes, yes. Whatever gets me in the tub!" She started to explain that I could get in the tub even if I refused these things, but I think I interrupted and said that I was fine with whatever she thought might help the baby. Again, this was one of those situations were I could feel myself growing impatient -- why not start running the bath while we're chatting about IV fluids and continuous monitoring? I just remember being so confused because I thought I had already agreed to these things. 

(Thinking about it later, I think she was just being really careful to be respectful of my birth plan, which had included requests for intermittent monitoring, no IV placement, and time to process and discuss when changes to the plan became necessary. She probably felt that by leaving the room and coming back and asking again, she was following my requests. I feel bad that I felt so frustrated with her when I'm fairly certain she was trying to do what she thought would make me most comfortable.)

As they started to fill the tub, I gripped the side of the hospital bed as I stood next to it. I started having painful, intense contractions that were piled on top of one another. I was shaking. My moans were turning into screams -- something I hadn't expected to hear coming out of my mouth. When a particularly screamy contraction had ended, I laid down in the bed and said I wanted an epidural. They said okay and said that the first step was to get that IV placed. It was torturous to hold still for the IV, but I knew I could do it, having held still for the epidural while involuntarily pushing during Greta's labor. Once the IV was in, I rolled onto my side and continued to moan and scream through contractions. I started feeling an intense urge to push and I repeated that I wanted the epidural. The midwife said that it was okay to feel that urge to push and that I was probably close to having the baby, that there might not be time for an epidural. 

At this point, I noticed that a lot more people were in the room and the midwife said that they were getting ready for the baby. I remember that moment so clearly, as I realized that I was about to have this baby soon and that everybody knew it. This was no longer just a gut feeling on my part, but that even the midwife, who had seemed to think we had hours and hours ahead of us, was preparing for my baby to be born. I started involuntarily pushing and said, "I'm pushing. My body is pushing." The midwife said, "That's okay. It probably means you are close to having your baby." 

I felt liquid between my legs and said that there was "something" between my legs. The midwife asked, "What do you mean by 'something,' Arden? Did your water break?" I suppose I could have meant a crowning head or something, but I remember being frustrated, once again. How was I to know whether it was my water breaking or not? I've got my eyes closed! (In my labor with Greta, I had thought that my water had broken when, in fact, it was blood. Later on, when my water actually did break, they weren't positive that it broke because it broke while I was on the toilet and then didn't leak anymore. So between those two experiences, I wasn't about to declare that my water had broken with absolute certainty, knowing that all kinds of liquids can come spilling out of a laboring woman.) In any case, I said, "I don't know. Liquid. Maybe my water. Maybe blood." I asked what time it was and was told it was ten minutes to 1am. 

The midwife checked me and said my water had broken, I was complete and that I was going to have the baby now. She flipped me onto my back from how I had been lying on my side, and pushed my legs up. It felt good to be able to push, but it was also very confusing. There were a lot of people in the room, or so it seemed, and they were all telling me to do various things. I felt like people were pulling my legs in all kinds of directions and yelling and me to hold my thighs back. This was a very different experience from pushing with Greta -- in which other people were holding my legs and I just focused on pushing. I was shaking way too much and asked if someone else could hold my legs and they said no, that I needed to hold my own legs for leverage. I'm not sure what the rush was -- whether they were concerned about the baby's heart decelerations, or whether they were trying to spare me more pain or tearing, or whether there was something else going on, but I felt like they wanted this baby out fast. At one point they were asking me to look at something -- one of them, perhaps, or maybe down to see how close I was to having the baby? But I couldn't open my eyes. I was completely out of control of my body. Finally, I felt someone lifting my legs up high and then, in what felt like I had a million body parts flying out of me, she was born at 12:57am. It's still amazing to me that I only pushed for 6 minutes. With Greta, I had pushed for probably about 2 hours.

They put her on my chest right away and I felt instant joy and relief. As soon as she was out, the contractions stopped and I hugged my slippery little baby to my body. She was tiny and wet and looked so much like Greta. I couldn't believe she was there -- it had all that had happened so fast. It was only 90 minutes since I had first arrived in the labor and delivery room and even less time since my first cervical check in which I had been declared to be "barely in active labor." I still wonder what would have happened if I had been a stickler for the 5-1-1 rule and waited until I had more regular contractions before coming to the hospital. Especially since I was experiencing so many long contractions and coupled contractions, all the way up until the very end, I can't imagine how challenging it would have been to try to get an accurate read on what was happening using my timer alone. As it was, the only good indication of how close I was to birthing was the intensity, and so I am glad that I followed that as my guide. 

Lydia turns 2 weeks old today. There is more to this story, but it relates more to postpartum recovery and breastfeeding and sibling adjustment, so I'm going to wrap this up here and get it posted. As hard as things have been, we are totally in love with our girls.

So Close and Yet So Far

The hardest part of the end of pregnancy is not so much the waiting, but the wondering. It feels like just about every day, I experience some kind of "Is this it?" feelings. The truth of the matter is, I wouldn't mind waiting awhile. I'd actually prefer it if this baby waited another week or so. But instead, I find myself unable to relax and just have fun and wait because I'm always in a state of pre-labor.

Monday evening, I felt very ill. Almost like a hangover, or the beginning of the flu. Nausea, headache, general body aches. By the evening, it had developed into contractions, but ones that I could distract myself from. That evening, I woke up with contractions several times, but by the time I woke up I mostly just felt sick again.

During the day on Tuesday, I expected throughout much of the day that I would go into labor. In fact, I never even left the house because I was so certain that labor was going to start at any moment. I was actually quite surprised when evening came and it hadn't developed into anything exciting.

Wednesday morning, I woke up with a headache and sore muscles but I forced myself to get up and install the car seat base while the weather was still cool. After that, I went for a long walk with Greta and we got some breakfast. On the walk back, I was getting very sore and crampy. I was actually kind of grateful that Greta wanted to push her stroller because it forced us to walk at a slow pace on the way home. Unfortunately, it didn't tire her out as much as it tired me out, and so Ben (who is sick with some kind of cold/sinus problem) and I had to struggle with getting her down for a nap before we could get some rest ourselves. (Thankfully, she did sleep and so did we!) That evening after she went to bed, I had really bad cramps and pulling sensations down in my lower abdomen and cervix. It was very unpleasant, but I managed to breathe through them and distracted myself with Netflix before falling asleep.

That brings us to last night. I woke up at 2am with INTENSE pain. It was like the worst period cramps of my life. Radiating all around my back and abdomen and down my legs (in particular, my right leg). It reminded me of when I woke up in labor with Greta -- just intense pain, with no discernible starting and stopping. I had told myself that this time, if something happened in the middle of the night, I would be better about letting Ben sleep as much as possible and deal with it on my own so that at least one of us could be well-rested. But I was in so much pain.

This sucks. Here I'd thought I was going to be so much better at handling contractions this time because I was going to get a break in-between them this time unlike with Greta. All of those "practice contractions" convinced me that I was going to have an easier labor and that I wouldn't have to deal with the overwhelming non-stop pain this time. And here I am, 2am and I'm waking up with non-stop pain just like last time. My body just doesn't know what early labor is supposed to be like. It's like it never read the manual. 

I needed to heat up my heating pad and eat something so that I could take Tylenol, but I couldn't fathom making it down the stairs because I could barely stand up without the pain causing me to double over. I felt awful about waking up my sick husband, but I couldn't manage on my own. I woke Ben and he got the heating pad which helped tremendously. He made me a multigrain waffle and I ate it and took some Tylenol while he went back to sleep. I watched more Netflix until the pain faded enough that I could fall asleep again.

This is it. I know this feeling exactly. This is labor, or at least how my body "does" labor. I need to sleep now because I'm not going to get any more sleep for the next 28 hours (or maybe even more this time). Let's see if I can do it. 

This morning when I woke up, I felt okay. Not great, but definitely nothing like what I'd experienced at 2am. I was afraid to move. When I'd move even just a little bit, I'd be hit by a cramp. I decided that, since my position was making a significant difference in how my cramps felt, it was probably not "real" labor. I forced myself to get out of bed, to eat some food, to drink some fluids, and to move around. With a little more time, I felt better.

And that brings me to now. Feeling utterly confused. What's it going to be like this time? Is it going to be a more "normal" process? Or was last night an indicator that it's going to be just like last time? Why did I have to go through that horrible pain if I wasn't going to have a baby today? Is my body just confused? On June 12 when I was convinced that I was in labor, the timing was indicative of active labor, but the intensity was not. This time, the intensity was there, but the timing was not.

I feel sore and the baby feels, perhaps, a bit lower. But other than that, I'm pretty sure nothing is going to come of last night's events. I'd really appreciate it if we could have a quiet and restful few days, followed by an actual labor and delivery. C'mon Piccola! You can do it!

10 Days!

10 days left until my due date. No promises that there will be a baby at that point, but it's nice to know I'll be in the single digits of the daily countdown soon. Feels a little like New Year's Eve.

Things are much more ready. Furniture is moved. The swing is set up. Hospital bags are packed. I need to install the car seat base, but I'm hoping to do that early in the morning when it's not so hot out. I'm having a hard time dealing with the heat. The A/C has been on all day, and I'm still fanning myself.

Greta is getting more excited. She understands that there's a baby in my belly, that the baby will come out and be her little sister, and that the baby is "cozy" in there. She has a small baby doll that was mine when I was a child and another one at her grandparents' house. Greta frequently makes noises akin to a gentle ambulance siren and then narrates that her baby is crying. Most of the time she then announces, "She needs a bottle," but today she began saying, "She needs her big sister. " YES, this freakin' melted my heart, and caused me to run inside to get the little doll so that Greta could hold her on our way to Menards.

There are many aspects of Greta's treatment of her baby doll that will be very different from her treatment of the actual live little sister that will be coming to live with us. For starters, Greta will not be able to hold the real baby in her lap while we are in the car. Also, when Greta tucks her baby doll into the swing, she frequently places a large toy car at the baby's feet  and a bottle near the baby's face before asking me to turn the swing on. That will most definitely be changing when it's a real newborn in the swing. She does however, know that she has to step away from the swing while it is on, and that if she hears the noise that means it is on, she can't get close to it until Mama has turned it off and it has stopped moving on its own.

Greta's baby doll (which I named "Yellow Baby" as a child).

We are trying, in these small ways, to introduce Greta to some of the realities of life with a baby. Yesterday, when she asked me to give the baby a bottle (a little Medela pumping vial with a nipple on top), I explained that while Papa and other relatives and friends will use a bottle to feed the baby, most of the time Mama is going to nurse the baby. We chatted about what this meant for a few minutes and I didn't think she'd really internalized what it meant (it's hard for me to know for sure whether she remembers nursing . . . she says she does, but it was 9 months ago that she last nursed). A few hours later, she asked me to nurse the baby and then when I cradled the doll to my chest she announced, "She gets milk from the breast!" So she at least understands the concept.

With other things, however, there aren't as many easy opportunities for teachable moments. We don't have a pretend carseat, for example, and so for right now either the baby doll is going to be in Greta's arms during a car ride, or she'll be face down on the back seat (which often results in Greta stepping on her head as she climbs into her car seat). I suppose we could at least put the baby doll in a seatbelt, but I am not comfortable pretending that this 8-inch plush doll can 5-step before Greta can.

So those lessons will have to wait until there's an actual baby that will fit in an actual car seat. It will be interesting to see how the adjustment to a real baby goes. For the most part, Greta is pretty good at understanding what's pretend and what isn't. She puts her face all over the burners on her toy stove, for example, but when we demand that she stand clear of the big oven in the kitchen, she tends to listen. So will Greta try to pick up her baby sister by the neck or the hair? I kind of doubt that. I think she'll understand that real babies have to be treated more carefully.

And even if she doesn't right away, that is a lesson we will be working on very quickly!