Introducing....

...Peyton Bailey, newest exhibit in our zoo!

She was welcomed into our arms at 6:54 pm on Monday the 13th of March.

It was amazing.  She amazes me.  God amazes me.  It's good.

My doctor decided that, since I was dilated to 4 cm and not contracting that we should have me go in and break my water so we wouldn't have the gamble of it happening spontaneously and me not being able to get my husband home and me to the hospital in time.  So on Monday morning we went in and got the ball rolling.

I would rather have just let my body do its own thing, but to eliminate the frantic rush of trying to find someone to watch the kids on a whim and dealing with a minimum of an hour and 45 minutes of commuting if anything happened during the work day meant it was safer for the baby and for me and was a better option for the big 3.  So, Pitocin it was for me.

 In the hospital, I settled in and got started on my IV and donned my monitors and sent the anesthesiologist packing, despite his dubious looks of "are you sure?" and "do you know what you're getting yourself into?".  At noon, they ruptured my membranes and the contractions started to feel a little stronger, though they weren't registering on the TOCO at all, so they kept cranking the Pitocin and I kept pulling into myself to find strength and peace through the waves.  Eventually, they switched to an internal monitor and realized that I was, in fact, contracting quite well and things progressed steadily and normally. I was in pain, but it's a good, productive pain, so I was happy enough and content to keep breathing and centering myself.  Around 5:30, I started feeling more pressure and my doctor told me he had to run out, but that he would be back around 6:45.  I promised him I'd wait and he dashed out.

Shortly thereafter, I was finally having to moan through the contractions to bleed off some of the pressure and relieve my body's stress. Justin took up his post next to my head and offered his hand to bolster my strength.  Soon, I felt the urge to push clearly and nearly begged to do so.  With just enough time to spare, my doctor sprinted in the door and, after a good push or two, I felt the unmistakable relief of her head emerging, and then the satisfying, fulfilling release of her little body joining the world.

But when they placed her on my belly, her beautiful face was purple and she was silent.  Dimly, I remember Justin cutting the cord and some white towels rubbing her skin... but what I recall most was that she was silent.  And so, so purple.  Nearly gray.

My doctor and a couple of nurses begged my pardon and lifted her away to get a better look at the situation and I was flooded by words at random: "fluid", "breath", "lungs", "bag", "NICU".  I tried to see through the commotion and think through the rush of fear and adrenaline, and I don't think I allowed myself to exhale until I heard her first feeble cry.  She was alive.

Clutching Justin's hand in mine, I waited.  We waited.  Amidst the bustle, we were able to see her limbs taking on a healthier pink hue and between the wooshing sounds of the bag they had to use to help her breathe and the suctioning, she would occasionally cry out, each time bringing tears to my eyes and grounding me - reminding me that God is good and she would be alright.

They took her to the special care nursery (NICU) and reported back that her chest x-ray showed that her lungs were completely full of fluid and that she was stable but still needed care.  They assured me that as soon as they could get her breathing on her own, she'd join us.  Then, and only then, did Justin and I let go of one another.  Later, they reported back to me that they were anxious to get her out of the nursery because she was crying and flailing her fists at the nurses and agitating the more sensitive babies in the nursery.  She was hungry, they said with a smile, and she wanted her Mommy.  My heart grew heavy with love and I felt like I couldn't love any more than that, ever.  (But, of course, I do.)

At about 9 that night, I held my newest daughter in my arms and stared into her face and thanked God for all His gifts... Peyton looks like a perfect blend of all of the older kids and it was as if I was being given another chance at experiencing their births and I knew that watching Peyton grow is going to be like an opportunity to relish all of their childhoods again.  She is a gift.  She is a beautiful gift.  A reminder to live every moment for that moment and take each breath as if it were the most important of my life.

And be grateful for the next one.

And the one after that.

So, little Peyton Bailey, who was born at 6:54 pm on March 14th, weighed 8lbs 1oz and measured 20 inches in length.

It was an easy labor and delivery; I was up after 30 minutes using the restroom.  I needed no repairs and I felt refreshed and happy afterward.  I enjoyed my time with my husband (even if I didn't spend much time in conversation with him) and I enjoyed feeling my body work.  I savored each minute - even the painful ones - and I will forever hold in highest respect the ability of the human body to ferry life into this world.

 

Welcome, Squirt, to our family!

And thank you, Lord, for choosing us as her family.

16 Days Away

My due date.

It's 16 days away.

Doubt I'll go that far, but still... 16 days.  Wow.  Sounds like an eternity to me when you figure that also equals 16 sleepless nights of contractions.

But when I look at my older three and realize I've only got 16 days of "exclusive" snuggling with them, it seems like an absurdly scant amount of time.

And when I think that I have only 16 days of pregnancy left in my whole life... when my whole life HAS been reproduction for the last 5 years, it seems like a blink.  More bittersweet...ness.

I want to see my baby girl.  I want to feel her weight on my chest (instead of my crotch, thanks) and inhale her sweet smell and learn about who she is (you know, besides someone who gets massively irritated by hiccups and curls up against her daddy's hand when she feels him) and introduce her to three very excited siblings.  I want to go into labor and enjoy the feeling of my body doing it's amazing job of bringing a life into this world.  I want to sigh that satisfied, contented sigh of peace and thanksgiving when I hear her cry and know that I have done what nature set me out to do 40 weeks ago.

But I'm going to miss it.

I'm going to miss feeling the beautiful roundness of my belly.  I'm going to miss her kicks and wiggles and knowing that she's mine to enjoy and that I'm keeping her safe and secure and she wants for nothing right now.  I can't let her down or not fulfill her needs right now.

At 36 weeks, my sonogram showed that she was 6lbs 7oz.  Last week, at 37 weeks, I was 70%, 3 and -2.  I have another appointment on Thursday... We'll see how that one goes... I've had so many contractions that I can't imagine I'll have to wait 16 days to say, "Honey, it's time."

This pregnancy has been rough in terms of it running concurrent with the raising of 3 kids 3 and under, building a house, and being my 4th baby in as many years.  But it's also been a beautiful experience - one for which many women pray and for which I am extraordinarily grateful... It has felt right from the beginning and it has given me a glorious, comfortable "full" feeling in my heart... one that assures me that we are complete with this baby and that I can tell my body "thank you" and release it from its duty of bearing children - proud and satisfied that each one of my "bumps" has yielded a perfect pregnancy.

So, for now, I wait.  I lay at night with my hands resting atop my belly or against Justin's back with our baby nestled between us, snug and secure, anxious, but at peace.  I hold my big kiddos on my lap and listen to them giggle when New Baby greets them with kicks and punches.  And I trust that things will happen on their own time since, from the outset of this, none of it has been in my control anyway.

Pregnasty

Alright.  I know that when this pregnancy is over, I'm going to be a weepy, nostalgic mess.  I'll only remember the amazingly wonderful sensations of being closer to my baby than I ever will be again and enjoying a relationship with her that is STRICTLY between the two of us.  I will miss the fluttery kicks and lament the passing of my reproductive career.

I'll probably, at some point when I realize that my baby is no longer a baby, start begging for a 5th.  (My husband is under strict orders to anticipate this and to firmly, strongly deny me.)  Just in case that happens, however, I want to remind myself about the less that fuzzy, warm, happy, glow-y aspects of pregnancy... specifically pregnancy in tandem with being the mother of several children already.  It seems that women have a penchant for scrubbing their memories clean of all reminders of these things after the fact, and I want to make sure that I've written down my woes not out of a desire for sympathy, but as a good dose of reality and common sense later on.

You know... as ammo to fight my hormonal wig-out when I wean this little girl or when she sleeps in a big-girl bed for the first time or... *gulp* goes to school for the first time.  (Taking a break here - teary eyed already.  See?)

So, let me state for the record that, at a day shy of 32 weeks, I have lost sight of my feet.  Which is good because they're so dry they'd embarrass any mummy.  They are, in fact, so dry and cracked and gross that I can literally pick laundry up by merely stepping on it.  Like Velcro.  And I'm pretty much powerless against it because they are just.  so.  far.  away. 

I have heartburn.  It drives me nuts and leaves me in utter fear of anything acidic... but I'm so exhausted that I can't function without coffee.  So I eat Zantac like Skittles and hope for the best.  But if I let the heartburn get away from me, I throw up.  But since I'm such a freaking manatee at this point, and since I've birthed so many children in such a short time, I pee when I boot.  So each vomit episode lands me squatting in front of the toilet with a puddle of urine beneath me and I miss the toilet half the time in an effort to avoid stepping in my pee.  And then I'm left sanitizing the bathroom at whatever heinously awful hour of the night this happens. 

I alternate between two outfits.  Two.  And I'm usually so tired by the end of the day that I sleep in my clothing.  It makes a very awkward laundry rotation.

Jack and I have conversations that go like this: "Mom, your belly button is a huge hole." "I know, Jack, that's because your baby sister has stretched it out."  "My belly button is small.  If I get fat like you, will mine grow too?" 

Justin and I have conversations like this: "Do you..." "No."

Jordan and Addie are sick of sitting on my lap because they're sick of my lap kicking them off.  Or punching them off... I'm not sure which.

My husband uses verbs like, "thundering" to describe how I move across a room.   (That may or may not have a direct impact on the outcome of the conversation I described above.)

I am constantly starving but I can eat about a teaspoon of food before I feel either full or the heartburn comes back and I have to try to empty my bladder as quickly as possible...

...which isn't usually a huge problem since I make a pit-stop every 7.25 minutes anyway.

Things aren't where they should be.  I'll leave it at that.

And I am not one of those lucky pregnant women who get gorgeous hair and nails and skin... I turn into some kind of alligator-woman with frizzy fluff on my head. 

Every time I bend down and realize I've had to spread my feet apart to reach the floor, the grunt required to pull myself back to standing is half effort and half disgust. 

I miss being able to roll around on the floor with my littles and I miss having a lap big enough to accommodate two toddlers for a story.  I miss being able to hug Jack without having him ask me to please smush my boobs down because they get in the way.  I miss being nimble and spry (ish) and 100% on my game for them. 

Of course, I will miss all of this... this miracle of life.  I will.  I am blessed to be able to whine about it and blessed that God has chosen me to bear His children.  I am.  I know that... I just don't want to get too caught up in all the good and forget the bad and wind up doing it all over again - good and bad - because I've convinced myself and my husband that it's a terrific idea.

Because, uh, at this point, it sounds like a horrible idea.

In Zoo News: The Newest Exhibit Is...

I can't even believe I forgot to mention that our fourth blessing is a little girl!  I was totally going to keep it a secret, but I'm terrible at stuff like that, so here she is: the littlest Gallagirl!

BUT, what's more important is that she's apparently healthy - no indications of anything amiss and my bloodwork came back with low risk-factors on the major issues for which they test.  Lends me a little peace of mind and gives me a pronoun to use with certainty until we figure out a name.  In that vein - any suggestions?  Other kiddos are Jackson, Addison and Jordan so something like-sounding would be great... THANKS!

Relief, Finally

I've been a total and complete slacker.  The second trimester has brought with it some amazingly nasty headaches.  And by headacheS, I mean A headache that has lasted nearly a month.  The only thing that's changed for me for the last month is where in my head the pain was. 

It's like gremlins lived in my skull and were dismantling my brain neuron by neuron.  It destroyed my will to exist.  I was functional - barely.  Surviving was about as far as I'd go to describe my lifestyle.  Tylenol, as a relief, was about as useful when chucked at passing cars as it was when ingested, and even sleep didn't do much to help.  See, I'm a total badass about pain - I've got a crazy tolerance... unless you talk about headaches, in which case, I'd rather amputate each toe one at a time with a rusty nail file than deal with an hour of headache pain.  Stories of epidural-induced spinal headaches have been enough to encourage me to do 22 hours of labor without drugs for Jack and deliver the twins naturally.  I'd go grocery shopping naked every single day for the rest of my life if it meant I never had another migraine. 

HOWEVER, I had an appointment with my (rock star) OB yesterday and he prescribed some kind of magical medicine that helped last night.  I felt what it was like to be pain-free for a couple of hours for the first time in a month.

I could have cried.  I would have, if I weren't afraid it'd bring the headache back. 

If this amazing medicine continues to maintain my humanity, I promise I've got some good stuff to share.  Oh, and I get to enjoy my kiddos again and I get to enjoy fall and baking and.. and life!  It's incredible.  So thanks for sticking with me!

Details, Details

So, I'm sure our announcement left you with some burning questions...  I'll go ahead dish, mmkay?

First of all, as first trimesters go, this one wasn't too bad.  I had some nausea and lots of fatigue (which is generally why you found me absent from commenting on your blogs as often as I'd like, or remiss in posting on my own) but in general, this baby has been pretty good to me, considering the other three have - ahem - not been as forgiving.  I mean, saying, "Jordan, can you please hurry up with those molars because Mommy is trying to gestate a baby and I'm too tired to listen to your whining" doesn't really get you anywhere. 

To that effect, any first trimester with 3 kids 3 and under already making your life chaos is pretty much something I'd advise against... you know, except for the whole part where you don't get a baby after 40 weeks without the first trimester...

Anyway, one of the worst parts of all of this ended up being my decision to use cloth diapers.  My nose has been super sensitive and ANY smell - good or bad - sets me a-gaggin' so scraping fresh "I'm teething and just ate corn and 4 crayons"-style poop out of cloth diapers into the toilet generally left me weak and shaky and my stomach totally empty.  Talk about a bummer.  I'm not totally over the smell thing, so if you can pray to the gods of solid poop for the next week or so, I'd really appreciate it. 

Aside from physically, I'm feeling basically blessed.  Overwhelmed with love for this kiddo already, and sad but  happy because I think he ("he"... in my house, you're innocent until proven guilty) is our last and I've not even held him in my arms and I'm already lamenting the last time he smiles without teeth or the last time I puree baby food or the last time I put him to my breast or the last diaper I'll change or the last time his hair has that downy-soft "baby" feel... It was horrifically hard with the older 3 to let those things go, and I'm pretty certain that the passing of each milestone is going to dissolve me into a sobbing mess in the corner of my closet... *sigh*

I mean, here's the deal: we were actively trying to avoid a pregnancy at this point in our lives.  A fourth was on our radar, but we were planning (hah!) to wait for a bit longer before we started serious discussions.  But our hearts were open, so I guess that trumps what our rational brains were saying.  Anyway, two pretty darned reliable methods of birth control failed (no, not operator error, I promise; I flounced into my doctor's office for my yearly exam a few days before the test came back as positive, utterly confident that there was no way a pregnancy was even remotely possible) putting this baby into an impossibly small percentage of probability... which makes his presence in our lives nearly miraculous.  And for that, I am both grateful and still a little mystified.  (Though, despite all the love and happiness, I'm still considering the company named for a Greek city a bill for college tuition in 19 years.)

The kids are doing great with everything; the girls understand nearly nothing, but Jack is excited and loves to pat my belly and then ask me to pat his (where his baby is also growing) and Addison loves all things baby - she's very sweet and gentle and loving.  I think she'll do wonderfully well... Jordan... well, Jordan will no longer the "the" baby of the family, so I think that'll irk her a bit since she already feels she doesn't get enough (constant) attention, but then again, she is full of surprises so I'm just going to sit back and watch.

I'll leave you with some stats, in case you were wondering... or in case you needed someone to point and laugh at today or in the future when you're starting to think I've got my shit together:

When this baby is born, Jack will be 4 years, 3 weeks old.  The girls will be 22 months old.  There will be 4 kids, 4 and under in my household, and for a year, there will be 3 under 3 again.. actually, 3 kids 2 and under, if that sounds nuttier.  For that matter, for two months, I will have an incredible 3 kids under 2.  In five years, I'll have had 4 children.  Woah. 

Truly, it shouldn't be too bad.  They're close in age which will make things much easier... for now.  At least, that's what I tell myself.  Stay tuned... it's gonna get crazy (er, crazIER)!

I also updated, and will continue to update, The Exhibits page as this whole thing unfolds... Thanks for being a part of our incredible experience!

Ugh, the Hospital Saga...

There is no way I am re-typing this one... You can read it on the baby page at http://www.babyhomepages.net/tummymonkey/music.php?t=stories.php or what I've copied/pasted below:

First of all, Happy Mother's Day to all the amazing Mommies in my life! Believe me, I know what an honor, a blessing, a gift, and (at times, like this weekend!) exhausting endeavor it is to define yourself as "Mommy". I could go on and on about it, but I'm pretty sure you'd rather just hear about this past weekend and what the heck happened that I was in prison the hospital for 72 hours...

On Friday, I had a regular OB appointment, though not with my own provider (Dr. Sheldon) because she has been temporarily deployed to one of the Red Cross ships, the Comfort, until May 16th. The doctor who saw me checked my cervix and saw it was at 4 cm and I had effaced a tiny bit more since my last cervical check - which was on the Sunday before when I was 3 cm. She said I should head over to Labor and Delivery Triage to have them check me again to make sure and to hook me up to the monitors for awhile to see that the babies were fine. It sounded reasonable, so I took my chart and headed down the hall. L&D was PACKED when I got there and Triage was backed up. I waited a little more than an hour (Justin was at home with Jack, so it was fine) and they took my vitals and listened to the girls' heart-rates and re-checked my cervix. Still at 4. So the nurse said they'd like to talk to the doctors and see what they say before giving me the green light to head home. That was fine. But it was also noon at this point and I hadn't eaten since 7 that morning and I knew that if they stuck me there for any amount of time, I wouldn't be able to eat anything at all. So I pleaded with them (probably my biggest mistake, in retrospect) to let me go grab some food. They said that was fine as long as I stayed in the building so I walked from L&D to Taco Bell, ate a good $10 of food there (which is fairly difficult to do, but figured if I was going to actually have babies, I'd want the calories since the worst part of a 22 hour labor with Jack was being hungry) and headed back. They re-checked me at that point and I was 5 cm dilated with no change in effacement, but Addison was at a 0 station (right AT the cervical opening, whereas -1,-2, etc. indicate the baby's head is further up in the uterus and +1, +2 etc. mean the head is past the cervical opening and in the birth canal) "Melissa, you're going to have some babies today! We're going to go ahead and admit you, yay!" The words "you're going to have some babies today" should be the most exciting words a giant pregnant woman hears and now I'm utterly and totally afraid to hear them out of another nurse's mouth until someone looks between my legs and sees baby hair fuzz. Anyway, they took me back to a L&D room and... put me in bed and hooked me up to the monitors. So if I had any "momentum" and was actually headed towards delivering these girlies, that killed it. For hours I sat there listening to their perfect heartbeats, watching the total and complete lack of contractions on the screen, feeling nothing but the numbness of my tush and growing frustration of being stalled with no hope of pitocin to help me get going. The doctors there are insisting the twins are still preemies (though my own doctor was calling them "full term" at 34 weeks) and will not help my labor along in any capacity - to include stripping my membranes. They had me stay over night in L&D and said they'd evaluate me in the morning to decide if I was actually in labor, if they were going to put me in another ward, 4-E, also known as "antepartum", or if I could just go home. Kasey was a trooper and brought me some McDonald's when they ascertained that I wasn't in labor enough to warrant NPO orders, and she sat with me and kept me company for awhile. I sent Justin home for most of this entire bunch of BS so he could be with Jack and maintain as much normalcy as possible for the poor kiddo; I knew nothing exciting was going to happen. Besides, we live 3 stoplights away... 10 minutes if you stop at each one.
Monitors hooked up over night, continuous fluids, IV penicillin in case the Group B Strep test came back positive... vitals every 2 hours... It was a long, exhausting night of absolutely nothing constructive happening. The girls' heart rates were fine, I wasn't contracting... in general, it was pointless torture. Saturday morning they decided I could move to 4-E because they refused to send me home at 5 cm. The only way anything would change is if a) I dilated to 6 or 7 cm on my own or b) my water broke. Otherwise, it was sit and wait. But sit and wait IN THE HOSPITAL. Keep in mind, at this point, I hadn't seen Jack in a full 24 hours, and the last time I did see him, I was looking at the back of his head as I snuck out the kitchen door to my appointment. The ache in my heart was worse than any contraction I ever felt during my labor with him. Even now looking back on how horrendous it was to be away from him makes me queasy.

Anyway, they moved me to this other room - no real TV, a window that looked out on a roof and a/c unit and got no sunshine, and the most heinous excuse for 3 square meals I've ever seen in my life. Oh, and a roommate. As soon as I got to the room, I called Justin and made him bring me my Jack. I can't even begin to describe what it was like to see him again. I can't. I have no words. It was simply amazing. While Justin was there, we ascertained that, contrary to what I had been told initially (that I wasn't allowed to leave the bed, let alone the room), I had orders to walk at least 3 times a day and was permitted to walk around the hospital grounds. The nurse even told me that "when they write orders like that, it's generally because they want to see if there is any change from walking and if not, going home becomes an option." So we instantly scooped Jack up and went walking, hoping against hope that either there would be no change or I'd just break some water and we could get the show on the road. I FELT NOTHING. No contractions, no change in Addie's station, nothing. Jack looked exhausted, so I walked the boys back to the parking garage, buckled Jack into his car seat so he could go home and nap, and watched them drive away. It was gut-wrenching. As I was buckling Jack he pointed at the passenger seat and said, "Mama, sit. Sit dere." All I could do was kiss his sweet little face and try to smile at him. (I already knew at this point that I couldn't handle 3 weeks of this shit nonsense.) Went back in to the room and rested until Justin came back with Jack for dinner and more walking. Again, Jack demanded I sit in the passenger seat when I put him in the car seat. Meanwhile, on the labor front, STILL NO CHANGE. I had to spend another night there... This time I had one of Jack's blankies, but it didn't do a thing to soothe my frustration and loneliness.

Justin called before he put Jack to bed because Jack kept pointing at the phone and saying, "Mama!" So they called and Justin asked Jack, "What's Mama doing?" and Jack replied, "Mama with babies." It was amazing to hear him chattering away on the phone. He got on and told me all about the birds eating their "Nummahs" (his word for good food) and the stars in the sky and the boats in the water and everything he could think of. I think I should mention here that Justin did an amazing job - an i ndescribably amazing job adjusting to being thrust into the role of a single father with a tot and house to care for. When I got home there were no massive piles of laundry sitting around, not food piled up on the counter and no dishes in the sink. He and Jack played and spent great time together, and I am so blessed to have both of them in my life. Anyway, I went to bed that night, needless to say, with the heaviest emptiness I've ever felt in my heart at the prospect of 3 weeks without my son.

The whole day we had been discussing the possibility of leaving AMA (against medical advice) and what that would mean for me, the twins, our insurance, etc. and had come to the decision that if, by Sunday morning, we couldn't convince someone to let me leave, I was going to go ahead and check out AMA. The biggest fear was that doing so would mean Tricare was unwilling to pay for the delivery. Once we found that isn't the case, I was 100% convinced that being at home in my environment would absolutely be the best thing for all 5 of us. By 6 am Sunday, I had convinced a few nurses and even one of the doctors (but unfortunately, not his superior) that I was better off at home. Eventually, the "head" doctor finally came in to talk to me and I explained my position and he just looked at me and said no. I'll sum up both sides of the argument:

Medical Staff:
1. I could progress to 10 cm, not know it, have 2 contractions and deliver the babies en route to the hospital and both could perish. 2. I can be continuously monitored in the hospital. 3. Labor can progress MUCH faster with 2nd pregnancies and especially with twins. 4. I would be able to rest and relax there and be "taken care of".

Me:
1. There is no way I will not notice SOMETHING different between 5-10 cm. 2. We live incredibly close to the hospital and if worst comes to worse, we live a block and a half from the Portsmouth FD and can call 911. 3. Two 6-lb babies will not simply fall out of me. 4. If labor was going to progress SO MUCH FASTER with this pregnancy, I probably would have seen SOME change over the course of the 4.5+ miles we walked over a day and a half and the 72 hours I sat around waiting for something to happen. 5. "Resting" and "relaxing" are beyond impossible in a hospital, especially with a roommate. 6. I didn't see a single fresh veggie or piece of fresh fruit the whole time I was there. "Whole grain" wasn't even an option, let alone, "wheat" instead of "white" bread. Everything was over cooked so any nutrients were totally gone, replaced with sodium for "flavor". I couldn't eat the food and therefore replaced 2 of 3 meals with McDonalds, Taco Bell, etc. which was unhealthy AND expensive. 7. Child care for Jack? 8. By the third visit he was starting to act up and I knew that the day would come (probably in the next 3) when he refused to come see me and that would not only break my spirit entirely, but make what will already be a difficult transition even worse. 9. With Jack's labor and delivery, it took over 12 hours, 9 of them on Pitocin, 6 of them on the MAXIMUM dose of Pitocin, to get me to progress from 5-6 centimeters AFTER my water had broken. 10. My mental, spiritual and emotional health are just as important at this stage of pregnancy as my physical health. 11. Delivering the twins in 2 contractions and having both perish on the floor of the van is the worst case, least likely scenario and I cannot live my life basing my decisions on that one potential outcome. I would not get in a car or handle sharp objects or leave my house without a biohazard suit if that were the case. 12. I know my body. I can feel minute changes in what the girls are doing. I know what it feels like when Addie's head is at a 0 station versus a -3 station. I'm responsible enough to go back to the hospital the second anything weird happens AT ALL. 13. I can't rank my children in importance; Jack and his well-being is in no way less important to me than the girls'. They are safe and comfortable (clearly) and happy in utero, and I will keep them there until they schedule my induction at 38 weeks. In the meantime, Jack needs me as much as I need him.

The nasty old crotchety Dr. Ayers just scoffed, asked me if I wanted dead babies and said I'm not allowed to leave unless I sign an AMA form. I could have punched him. So we began the process of checking out AMA. After being "counseled" by the Officer of the Day, the Nurse of the Day, several doctors, several other nurses, Officer of the Day again, having them ask to speak with Justin's command, speaking with our command ourselves, and signing my name on one measly little line, I was out of there by nap time on Sunday. We came home and relaxed and snuggled and played and did some yard-work and everything was wonderful. I haven't felt a contraction the whole time, I'm getting rest, my feet are up most of the day, I sent Justin back to work, and life is good.

When I sat down in the passenger seat of the van after strapping Jack in to his seat, he started clapping and shouted, "YAY! Mama sit! Mama home!" and I LOST it. I have cried so much over the last few days from the roller coaster of emotion it is unbelievable. I got him up after his nap on Sunday and he just looked up at me from his bed and said, "Mama... you here." Sunday's bedtime and Monday's nap time were a bit of a struggle I think because he was afraid I wouldn't be here when he woke up. I lay in his bed with him yesterday morning and he put his hand on my cheek and said very sternly, "Mama. No more doctor. Stay here." I started crying and he used the back of his hands to wipe my eyes and he patted my cheek and said, "S'okay... whatsamatter? S'okoay." and he kissed my nose. I just told him I love him and I'm sorry I left him and he just sat there for a minute. I composed myself as quickly as I could and he said, "Better?" When I said, "yep, thank you Jack," he jumped up, grabbed Eeyore and demanded we go play trains.

I'm still catching up on all the lost sleep and trying to make up for the emotional exhaustion of the whole ordeal, but I'm happy, comfortable and content now. So we wait.
Probably another 2.5 weeks.

I will be miserably huge at that point...

But we'll wait. At home.

Slipcovers, Burp Cloths, Bugs and Pink & Brown

It's been awhile... didn't want you to forget how adorable Jack is.
Jack's carpenter bee BFF

Misty's ADORABLE burpcloths (and part of my campaign against Justin's insistence that a crazy embroidery/sewing machine isn't necessary)

Seriously? SO CUTE.

Girls' crib - all set up and ready for babies!

Here's the nursery... still needs stuff on the walls. You can see the slipcovered ottoman in the front left... I also upholstered the shelves over the changing table in the same fabric as the chair.

The back of the chair... I wanted buttons instead of bows, but I couldn't find a button store.

The newly slipcovered chair... this isn't a great picture, but there are matching bows on the front.

So that's where my time has been going lately. Sewing slipcovers by hand, setting up my pink and brown nursery, playing with Jack and his bugs and doing all of it at a snail's pace because I'm so overly extraordinarily preg.

Showers, Doctors, a Rabbit and a Padded Room

So apparently my BFFs decided to throw me a surprise baby shower last weekend. Totally worked because I had no idea. Justin was in on it, so was Morgan and pretty much everyone I know, thanks to Kasey and Amber's tenacity. I'm just sorry more people couldn't make it from out of town - I miss you guys! I can't even begin to give thanks and shout-outs to everyone for their sweet gifts and awesome contributions on this blog because I know I'll leave someone out - but needless to say, the "Galla-girls" (How cute is that?! It was on the invitations!) are hooked up to the max for just about everything. I even have a bunch of amazing guy friends from college who got together on the high-chair we've been wanting forever! But aside from all the cute pink goodies, it was really REALLY awesome to connect with the wives on our boat that I haven't met or haven't seen in forever, and to hang out with other lady friends from around the area WITHOUT a kid to worry about and just gab. Well, gab and eat. It was an awesome surprise and I feel so SO fortunate to have the incredible friends I do. I'm done or I'm going to get sappy. But it rocked.

And it's a good think it happened when it did. I'm 33 weeks, and had a doctor's appointment yesterday, kicking off the super-duper fun span of once-a-week appointments from here on out. There are times when I feel like I HAVE to be close and other times when I'm positive they're going to have to schedule an induction for 38 weeks. Thus far I'm fine - mild contractions occasionally, puffy legs and ankles, ONE solitary stretch mark (damnit) on my hip, a wonky bikini line, and an outty belly button... the chunksters are still head-down and growing well. One more week and I'll have avoided bed rest ENTIRELY! Woot! After 34 weeks they don't try to stop labor if the girls want out.

Luckily I finished the chair. Just need to quickly get the ottoman done, get the shelves and curtains put up, and we're in business. Pictures of nursery to follow in the next week or so.

And finally, Enzo seems to be doing really well. I weaned his dumb ass off of his pain meds when I realized he was jumping up on top of the cardboard box I had put in his cage. Not only that, but he was digging at the top of the box and chewing chunks of cardboard off it. Come on, dude couldn't have been in THAT much pain. Besides, he was getting slightly addicted to the meds (to the point where he'd rip the syringe out of my hand when I put it near his mouth, hop away with it and fiendishly chew/lick/suck on it.) He seems to be eating just fine and has pretty good spirits. I'm going to let him run around on the 3rd floor this evening for awhile and see how he does and if it hurts, he might get another (small!) dose of his meds. The elbow feels like a giant lump and he holds his arm across his chest like a... well... you can picture it. It's funny. I make a "duuuuuuurrrrr" noise at him whenever I see him because, well, it seems appropriate.

Once his stupid self is fixed enough to rejoin the family downstairs (AFTER the girls get here) he'll be happy to note that I've replaced the coffee table of death with a cheapie ottoman-style mini coffee table from Bed Bath and Beyond. It looks a little goofy because it's about a third the size of the wrought-iron/slate one that claimed his elbow, but it's entirely safe for toddlers and rabbits alike and therefore has my anxiety level WAY down. Jack has taken up dancing as one of his favorite activities - and his brand of dancing includes lots of spinning, jumping and head-banging. I can't even describe how many times he has nearly taken a header into the table and I have a small heart attack every time it happens, so I finally put my foot down, made Justin hide our beautiful table in our bedroom, and splurged on the ottoman. People, we are a few VERY SMALL steps away from having a padded room. Keep that in mind. That's where I'm at with my life right now. Padded rooms.

Anyway, off to go start my day and enjoy "Melissa Time" before the tot gets up!

The Attack of the Giant Blob

Pretending I like this situation. (Kidding - I'm really excited!)

Additionally horrifying about this picture (as if the gigantic belly isn't enough) is how sickly I look. Somehow I'm battling the worst allergies of my life, laryngitis, an infected wisdom tooth and 44 pounds of extra weight between my shirt and jeans and inside my arms.

If. I. Hear. One. More. Person. Tell. Me. I. Am. Skinny. I. Will. Sit. On. Them.

I recognize I'm not grotesquely obese. HOWEVER comma I really do not think "skinny" is a fair term to use to someone who cannot see anything from about elbow-height down. And skinny people do not have obscene amounts of pain in their lower body caused by the copious amount of weight in the upper body.

Also, don't tell me about how this has flown by. It has not. At all. I have been pregnant for 90% of my life right now and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will sit on you AND suffocate you under the wonder that is The Belly.

(If you want details and specific medical stuff on babies, check out the baby page - link on the right!)

Ginormous Belly

25ish weeks.

I'm very proud of my stretchmarklessness.

It takes much hard work to cultivate a stomach this large.

I realized the other day that I have 4 arms and 4 legs in there (along with some heads and torsos and the like, of course) so basically I'm gestating an octopus... I'm sure all gestators of octopi get double chins, so I'm going to not stress about mine and assume it'll go away soon enough. Right? Right. (And I'll find a way to punch you in the face if you point out that it'll only get worse before it gets better.)

Well... We'll Call It Nesting

... Yeah.... because "nesting" sounds LOADS better than "psychotic". My random project du jour is painting my downstairs bathroom (well, "water closet" since it's about 3'x5' and holds a toilet and a sink smaller than your Nalgene bottle). Why? Well, I got tired to trying to convince myself that the grime in the 102-year-old bathroom is on the Historic Register and that I should respect that it has adorned the pure-white walls for longer than I've been potty-trained. Honestly, I was in that bathroom scrubbing a different surface every other day and every time I sat down to pee, I stewed over the dingy walls and how the glaring white made everything else look all the more gross. So I decided to give up on bleach and toss in the (paper) towel and paint it instead.

So that's what I'm doing. My back is killing me and my fat stomach has smears of paint on the very front of it because the room is too small to accommodate my mass without touching the walls, but with enough coats, I'll get there.

If only I weren't obsessive about cleanliness.

We'll just chalk it up to nesting...

My Bump...

16 weeks, 4 days. To call it a "bump" at this point is a gross understatement.

Clown Car

Well, I just put Jack's Britax car seat in the middle seat of the Prius and tried to stuff an infant seat on either side... Well, I can't tighten any of the 3 to acceptable standards, and both of the infant seats are slanted to one side and both of the front seats have to be scooted up to where Justin won't be able to drive. Totally safe.

So, off we go to look at vans.

Oh my Lord, how did I get here?

Big News

I'm sorry, I'm pulling this right off my baby page, but I haven't got the time or energy to write a totally orginal post...

Well, I guess I've been waiting for the right time to put this out there, but now's as good a time as any... Justin, Jack and I are getting ready to welcome more love into our family. A little bit of a surprise, but hey, that's God's way sometimes, right? We've been sitting on the news for the most part because I've felt really, truly horrendously bad with this pregnancy - much more so than with Jack and I wanted to either make it out of the first trimester without getting too excited or at least make it to our first pre-natal checkup, which we've done as of today. Hence, the news.

Twins.

Jack is going to have twin siblings.

No, it doesn't run in either of our families. No, they're likely not identical. No, no fertility treatments. 1 in 80ish chance.

We were shocked. We were joking with the tech who did the ultrasound before we started about how we wanted her to make sure she didn't find more than one in there... well, Dr. Mixson made sure Justin and I were looking at the screen at the same time when he turned it around. I looked at it and said, "aaaw, how cute, there's the little heart bea... or is that it? Wait, what's that other thi... No. No way. You have to be joking." The doctor just laughed (he's really excited about this) and said, "No, no joke. Those are both your babies and they look wonderful." I was floored. Justin laughed. (He's allowed to be way more excited than me considering my body is about to be DESTROYED...)

So the medical stuff, first. They're officially due on June 12th, 2009, but they never let twins go that far, so I'll be delivering no later than late May if my kiddos hang in there that long. Really, Dr. Mixson said I'm fine and in great shape and perfectly healthy so I shouldn't expect any real problems, especially this early on. But many, many multiples come early, so that's our main concern. Right now they're both big and strong - they're the same size and developing right on track together with good, healthy heartbeats, and wee little arms, legs, hands and feet that are already waving about and anxious to beat the crap out of my innards. (And each other, but there's nothing I can do about that...)

Yes, I do intend to nurse them both. Yes, I do plan to deliver them both vaginally and naturally. The only obstacle to delivery will be if the first kiddo is breech, in which case I'm stuck with a C-section. If he (and we're calling them "he" until further notice) isn't breech, I can deliver him and then we can either flip his brother or I can squeeze him out breech. I'm not in the least worried about labor and delivery. I'm actually looking forward to getting on with this whole adventure and putting the waiting and the wondering behind us.

Now, for our family, this is a HUGE change. We were adjusting to the reality of having 2 kids. This makes a big, big, almost incomprehensible, difference. Financially it will probably be more of an undertaking that I could have imagined because we can't bank on using Jack's old car seat and getting by with hand-me-downs this time... We're going to need another car seat, at least one more crib, some kind of stroller contraption for either 2 or 3 kids, massive quantities of diapers... the list goes on. It's daunting right now. And there is absolutely no legal or sane way that 3 car seats will fit in either our beloved Toyota Prius or our dear Honda Civic. Don't ask me what we're going to do, but we'll figure it out. I get way less upset about the financial side of things when I look at my Blobs.

Listen, if you have advice or anything, now is the time to cough it up because we're a little overwhelmed!!

I've been a bit sad since the outset of all this about my dwindling time with Jack. He is, without a doubt, my best friend, my little anchor, my angel... I was not prepared to cut my devotion to him in half, let alone in thirds or less. I've got a zillion concerns about how he'll handle being "the outsider" in our 3-some of kids or even if it'll be anything but awesome for the younger two to be a unit so Jack and I will retain our special bond... But I'm excited to see him as an older brother! He's so caring and nurturing and sweet and social that I think he'll settle into the role with the zest and gusto we know and love from Jack.

Thankfully we've made the decision that we're going to move to Virginia as a family at the end of November, regardless of whether or not our house has sold. Although it is going to be a financial strain to handle the two house payments (mortgage in GA and rent in VA), we really need to be together as a family right now. (And hey, may as well get used to paying for two of everything from now on, right!?) We have found a beautiful house up there that I'll talk about later in another post when I have energy, that's thankfully plenty big for our rapidly expanding family.
Well, that's about all the updating I've got energy for right now - I've got lots of fun stuff to talk about here about Jack, but he deserves his own post and I deserve a nap after the morning I've had.

Stay tuned for more on our crazy, crazy family!