Dreams and butter

I have a really active dream life. When I'm pregnant, it goes into overdrive.

Last night I dreamed that my father-in-law (quite the character I might add) was dressed in revolutionary war garb, and running around with an old musket. He decided to show us how the musket worked and fired into the air, setting fire to the neighbor's house. The rest of the dream was a comical version of putting out the fire with garden hoses while he told us that if we wanted to, we could grind our own flour from wheat using the huge grind stone he had, which was pulled by a mule.

2nd part: Butter.

My son Eliot is awesome. 10. Sweet. Concerned. Autistic.
Like most people with Autism, he gets singularly focused on certain things and won't budge.
He just came in to the office with some toast he had made and the butter dish.
"Mom, I can't make it flat"
"You can't make what flat?"
"the butter. It's bumpy"
"That's ok, buddy. You can have bumpy butter."
"No, it's too much butter and it will stop my heart!"
I laugh.
"Eliot. You're not going to stop your heart with bumpy butter. I promise! Go eat."

Counting the Blessing of Home

I feel like I'm turning into an egg.

I'm easily frustrated, because all I want to do is lie around and protect the baby or get ready for the baby or make lists about stuff I need to do (but can't do) before the baby comes. All inward turning stuff.

I woke up at 4:30 in complete terror that the baby would come too quickly, that I'd have her at the house, and that she wouldn't be able to breathe because I still didn't have a nasal aspirator to suck out the gunk from her nose and throat. My incredibly kind husband went to Wal Mart at 6 am and bought me one, and baby nail clippers, so that I'd be able to sleep. I went back to sleep holding the packages.

I posted about the aspirator nonsense in a Face Book note today. My friend Amy, who is a nurse, responded that if I didn't have one, to do a reverse mouth-to-mouth/nose with the baby and just suck instead of blow (and then spit!). I have now sworn to carry the aspirator everywhere I go!

I'm dilated to a 5, and still 7 weeks out. I begged my perinatologist to let me off the hook and only come twice instead of three times a week. He took this into consideration and said I could either come three times a week, or I could be monitored full time at the hospital.

I chose 3 times a week, and a room at home.

Where I can freak out and my husband can humor me.

I am blessed.

Great dream kid!

My daughter Emma was all excited yesterday when she woke up.

"Mom! I had a dream that you went to bed with your big tummy, but when you woke up, the baby was laying next to you, clapping. You didn't have to leave and it didn't hurt at all!"

That's one sweet and generous dreamer, folks. If only it were true!

Good luck to my friend Melanie who was induced last night at 7:30, to Janay who will be induced this coming Friday, and to Becky who was due Sunday.

BTW, did I tell you what the nurse said? "Go home and cross your legs". I told her "I should have thought of that 8 months ago."

Notes on 40

Today was the day. Kind of minimal and just right.

Backstory: My sibs and spouses and kiddos all get together every November for a long weekend at a gorgeous house in Mesquite, NV to chat and play and not worry that we can't get together for holidays. 2 Novembers ago I had a great time, then saw the photos. I was large. I decided then and there that not only was I going to get my physical act together but I was going to train. Train and work and be in better shape, so that over the weekend of my 40th birthday, I would go to San Diego and take surfing lessons.

I did a good job!

I lost a bunch of weight and toned up. I was full of energy and happy. By November of the next year I was just about where I wanted to be. I wore a kinda-clingy work outfit and heels all the way through the work day and on the 90 minute drive to mesquite. My family was impressed! I had biceps! I could walk for hours and not get tired! I could swim and swim and swim!

My husband was on board with the trip, along with a girlfriend who said she'd take the lessons with me. I love the ocean, I love water in general. I was pumped. I bought a surfing magazine and started emailing Southern California friends about good beaches, less populated and into surfing.

January first I took a test. In the middle of the night. Dumb me. - I'll share all of that another time.

So, the surfing journey took a hiatus and I launched myself into impending motherhood again, and waited for my 40th birthday. What would I do instead? It's kind of momentous you know.

Here's what I did.
1. Showered
2. Pills to stop contractions, and for gestational diabetes blood glucose monitoring.
3. Went to the Dr. for the second of 2 steroid shots to boost the baby's lung growth (seems I'm 4cm dilated and 70% effaced with 8 weeks to go).
4. Waddled into Target to use the ladies.
5. Waddled into Nothing Bunt Cakes just long enough to say "I know I'm diabetic right now, but it's my birthday and I MUST have the red velvet cake tonight! Oh, and look at that cute apron!"
6. Bed rested
7. Napped
8. Ate dinner (thank you Albertsons for your rotisserie chickens!) then red velvet cake while wearing my new apron (thank you, loving husband)
9. Poked my finger about 9 times.
10. Meds again.

My kids made me cards. Lara even made me coupons for a back rub, a foot rub and any chore. Sweet girl. My husband has been giving me gifts for 2 weeks because he can't stand to wait. (LOVE him)

Lovely, low key, family filled birthday. I'm glad I'm 40.

Seriously Old Birthday Greetings

My birthday is this coming Friday. I'll be 40. Pregnant and 40. Remember those t-shirts you'd see years ago that said "I'd rather be 40 than pregnant?" Well, I want one that says "I'd rather be Pregnant AND 40." I don't think they'll be very many buyers other than myself.

I've been on bed rest for - forever - it seems. I'm really active at church, being the Primary president (which means I'm kind of in charge of all the children's Sunday activities from ages 18 months until they turn 12) and I haven't been able to be there for 2 months. Bless the women who work with me on this, they've really picked up the ball and kept things going. I'm going to owe them big time.

Something else I really miss is taking the sacrament (kind of like communion) every Sunday. It gives me a chance to think about the promises I've made to my Heavenly Father, and the sacrifice that Jesus Christ made for me. It's also something I've pretty much taken for granted all these years. But going without... that's a different story!

Finally, a couple of weeks ago some of the young men in our congregation began bringing me the Sacrament, in my home. They're really very professional about the whole thing... that is to say they're very reverent. I've seen these boys playing basketball, or coming home from campouts. Not terribly reverent, if you get my drift. But here, in my living room on Sunday, they take what they're doing seriously and I am uplifted and edified by their work. Bless those young men.

As it so happened, the entire Primary made me birthday cards this past Sunday - plus a huge, oversized card with their names and hands outlined on it. What a lot of work that must have been for the leaders! I was touched. When the young men came over to bring me the Sacrament, the youngest of them said "Oh, is it your birthday? Happy Birthday." I thanked him and then my husband chimed in "yep, she's going to be 27." I grinned at his joke and said "yeah, I'm super old" to which young man said "aww, you're not old until you turn 40."

Gee, thanks.

AND my belly button is officially flat.

This has been a tough few days. Too many contractions. Clutter.

Bright spot: The really lovely shower that my boss threw for me at her house. Practically perfect. Still, I feel like I've been grouchy all day and can't shake it.
Bed rest.
Round ligament pain (in my stomach muscles? How can this be?)
Relatives (whom I adore, but also add a wee bit of stress)
Heat, heat, heat.

Handsome husband took the relatives and all the kiddos and bore an hour of screeching at the local McDonalds for lunch so I could rest and get ready for the shower. I finally felt better. Clean, pretty, put together (minus the fact that I can't reach my legs to shave them, no matter) and all I wanted to do was to stay at home, reading a book, looking nice, in the quiet.

Later tonight I was talking to handsome and said "I think I've been grouchy all day!" He gave me his warmest smile and said "why limit yourself to only one day?" Ouch. So I asked "ok buddy, how long have I been grouchy?" Answer: "How long since they put you on the diabetic diet?" Touche.

Stab. Poke. Bleed. Count. Weigh. Measure. No frozen custard for me, thanks! Sigh.

You'd think I would do this more.

I was all kinds of excited to post my thoughts. Daily. Serious.

But then this really big thing got in the way. It's my belly.

Ok, not so much just the huge, protruding belly, but the necessity to keep Iris safe and inside and cooking as long as possible. I've been, what?, 8 weeks on bed rest so far and I have 9 to go to reach 40 weeks. Meds for the pre-term labor. No church, no work, no shopping, no taking the wee ones to the splash pad. I can't even sit for any length of time to make the super adorable dresses for the girls that I want to...
http://www.thehandmadedress.net/MissMadeline6mo-4yrs.htm

I've even been told that I can't do the laundry or vacuum.

My husband, bless him, has been a champ. He's up early with kids, drives them around, picks them up, makes dinner (a summer of ramen noodles and Sonic isn't going to kill them, right?) and still spends time with me, reading books out loud and calling me his "svelte ballerina". Currently, I am anything but.

So, in conclusion, I like writing things down in this occasionally. However, I like Iris more. She'll be here soon and then I'll have a totally different excuse for not writing.