Jonah's Name

We have always had the names of our kids picked out before going into the hospital for their births. This time was a little different.

When I thought I was having a girl, I could not figure out what to name her. I thought we had already had a girl’s name picked out for years, but that name just didn’t feel right.

When I found out we were having a boy, I then knew why I couldn’t pick out any girls names, because it wasn’t a girl in there.

But, then I had the same issue with boy’s names. There was only one name I wanted or had even thought about in the past year or so, Marshall, Marshall John. Or, John Marshall and call him Marshall. But, that just didn’t feel right at all. Though, still the only name I liked.

Since John didn’t know what we were having I had to entertain names for both sexes. I didn’t like any name he suggested.

I kept telling people that this baby was coming home from the hospital un-named. How was it possible to not like any names at all???

Occasionally, before falling asleep at night, I’d ask John to tell me some names he liked for our baby. I never liked any of them. My thing is, I want my children’s names to mean something to me, be named after someone, and no one else I know can have that same name. I know no Trevans, or Mallarys. Sure, other people have those names, but I don’t know them. (Other than the Mallory on Family Ties)

That night, John rattled off some names, and in that list he said, “Jonah.”

What’s funny is, the very moment he said it, I knew that would be his name, but I wasn’t sold on the idea.

The Conversation:

Me: As in Jonah and the whale?
John: (I don’t remember his response)
Me: We would name our son after someone who gets swallowed by a whale?
John: (I don’t remember his response)
Me: We would name our son after someone who is disobedient to the Lord and gets swallowed by a whale?
John: There’s a whole other part to that story you know. He ends up being obedient.
Me: Yeah, but…
Me: Jonah?
Me: It reminds me of the Jonas brothers…

The conversation was not much longer than that.

What John didn’t know was during that conversation, in my mind I was saying, “Jonah Marshall Hamilton. Really?? Jonah?”

I wasn’t completely sold yet, though. But, from that night on, I knew that was probably going to be his name. It had been the only name that felt right.

We didn’t talk about it again until after he was born.

We were in the hospital and John initiated the conversation on what to name our new bundle of joy. We talked about Jonah. We didn’t even discuss any other name, I think I mentioned the name John Marshall, maybe just to remind myself that it didn’t feel right.

Later on, John called his Grandma. After he hung up the phone, he said, “I really feel like we should name him Jonah. My Grandma was saying how we shouldn’t bring any more children into this wicked world (what’s funny is that my Grandma says the same thing). And the world today is wicked, so it’s perfect. Jonah was alive during a really wicked time, and then he did good things. Our Jonah can do good things too.”

I still hadn’t told John that I felt his name should be Jonah too, and replied, “Yeah, but he got swallowed by a whale…”

I finally told John that I thought his name should be Jonah too, for these other reasons that I had thought about beforehand as well; Jonah is also named after his dad - Jonah is close to the name John, as it contains the letters in John’s name, and they have the same initials.

So, that’s how our little Jonah got his name.

I need some ice

I haven't really worked out in four months.

I had so been looking forward to this week to get back to the gym.

Seriously, I missed it. Whenever I drove by the club, it was like those bright colors were teasing me that I couldn't be there.

So, Tuesday night was my first night back.

This was John before I left: "Make sure you take it easy. If something hurts, stop."

Me: "Duh."

John: "No, I know you're a little prideful and would push yourself to do more."

Me: "You don't know me... but I want to see how fast I can do a mile..."

So, maybe he knows me a little bit.

I did do a mile in 12 minutes, almost four miles in an hour. (and it still kills me that I couldn't make it to four in an hour. So, maybe a little prideful...)

Not too bad for being gone four months and just having a baby.

Not too good for my back, my knees, my pelvic floor, my abs (what abs?), and my tailbone. Oh, my poor tailbone...

It's like having a baby all over again.

Of course my calves and hamstrings hurt a little, but that's no big deal compared to everything else.

Of course when I started on the treadmill I was like, this feels all right - it eventually started not feeling all right...

It would have felt nice if someone had carried me out of the gym.

Here's the problem; my treadmill was on the end of a row of equipment next to a mirror, and in front of the mirror, so if I looked to my left in the mirror, my eye was drawn to my middle (which now looks like four-five months pregnant), and if I looked in the mirror in front of me, I saw my post baby, rounder face. That's what made me keep going, and I guess I went a little harder than I should have.

My tailbone is in bad shape.

I don't think I'll try spinning next week like I'd hoped.

Looks like just the pool and walking for me for while.

So sad.

Holly's Myth Busters

At first glance, I called this cow a bull. Then I noticed it had utters. Is that a myth buster for you too?

As my pregnancy progressed, I was sure we were having another girl. I wasn't sick with Trevan, and I was sick with Mallary, therefore leading me to conclude I must be having another girl because I was sick. (John also concluded that, and that is why he was so surprised when a boy came out!) It seemed like most people tended to have similar pregnancies with the same sex of baby. Not in my case. Myth buster number two.

Boys give you a harder time while in the womb. Once again, not in my case. Myth buster number three.

"I can tell you're carrying a boy, you're so low." Myth buster number four. I carried low with all three of my kids. Also, my last two were floaters. If the waistband of my pants were too tight, they'd scoot a little higher inside me, if not, they'd stretch out. In one day, I could get multiple, "Oh, you've dropped" comments and "You're carrying so high" comments.

I always thought my pregnancies would be relatively the same. Or, at least the same with the same sex of baby. I was wrong.

Luckily, I only bought a "few" baby girl items before I found out that we were having a boy...

Jonah's Arrival

Warning: This is a long post - it took me a week to write - in brief sessions - due to the hard nature of this chair I'm sitting on...

It’s been a week and my arm is still sporting a bruise from where they first tried to put my IV in, my tummy is quite jiggly, my bruised tailbone is still sore (especially now that my meds have run out…), and for lack of a better word, my crotch, well, it has seen better days. But, I have a beautiful new little baby boy, with ten adorable fingers, and ten tiny toes, and the sweetest lips you’ve ever seen.

So, here it is, the birth story while it’s fresh – they say you forget about it later on, but you don’t, or I don’t. You just tell yourself, “Okay, I can do it again…” Temporary insanity, I think.

As we got in the car to drop off the kids, before heading to the hospital, I did feel a little insane, as my neighbor calls jokingly from his yard, “and this is something you women choose to do?”

We get to the hospital, I change into one of those adorable hospital gowns, hook me up to the monitors (and of course I was already registering regular contractions on my own, surprise, surprise…), and endure my first “checking” of the evening. We get the paper work filled out, and all that business, and I get my first little pill inserted in my cervix (which was very uncomfortable, might I add), and settle in for the evening.

I slept off and on all night while my contractions continued. At two in the morning they checked me again, and there was no change in my cervix, so they put another little pill “up there.” I think the first nurse was just mean, because the pill experience didn’t hurt this time. I go back to sleep, a little frustrated that all these contractions I’d been having for the past months weren’t doing anything to help my labor along…

I wake up at 7am feeling a little uncomfortable, I wake John up to help me go to the bathroom, and when we get out of the bathroom, my new labor and delivery nurse was there, and she asked how I was, and said she was going to tell the doctor that she didn’t think I was going to need pitocin. She told me, “Your contractions are looking good, and just by looking at you, I can tell you aren’t going to need it.” I thought to myself, “Okay then, let’s get this show on the road.” And, literally at 7:30 my contractions decided to kick it up another notch, that’s when my nurse considered my actual active labor had begun.

At 8 or 8:30 the Doctor came in checked me, broke my water, and probably wished he had built an ark. Talk about a flood! I never had that much water with my other two. It just kept coming, and coming, and coming. I created a lake on the floor. I was soaked, the bed was completely soaked, and they had to go get more towels to mop up the mess. It felt like someone turned a faucet on inside me and left it running, or gushing really.

The Doctor had the talk with us. “You know you’re having a large baby… You know there is another risk of shoulder dystocia… You know that if you can’t push him out on your own, we can’t use anything to assist you… You know if that happens we push him back inside and we’ll take you in to have a c-section.” Blah, blah, blah. Yes, we know.
Not long after, I was really ready for an epidural. I had told the nurse I would most likely want one. She left the room, and probably not even five minutes later I made John push the button for the nurse to say my wife needs an epidural. STAT! That came about 9 o’clock I think. My contractions were really crazy then with a lot of pressure, and I almost suffocated myself in a pillow I was holding during one of them while getting my epidural.

It took about five HARD contractions for the epidural to start to take effect, and then that was it… it took the edge off… that was it…

This was me:

“Ummm, I can still feel my legs.”

“Uh, how come I can move my legs?”

“I can still feel my legs…”

To which the nurse would reply, “That’s good.” To which I would be thinking, “What part of that is good?????”

Needless to say, I could move my legs the whole entire time, that’s how strong of an epidural I had – NOT STRONG! Fun for me…

After the epidural made me comfortable enough to carry on conversations, I remember telling John, “Now, here comes the scary part.” Not knowing if you’re baby is going to come out without any complications makes one a little anxious.

I held on (with my death grip/squeeze) to two of John’s fingers for most of my labor. Some time after I got my epidural I got the shakes. John states the obvious, “You’re shaking.” I told him I had no control over it, and to imagine what they would be like if I didn’t have the epidural.

John made a bet that the baby would be born by 9:30; I remember looking at the clock at 9:30 and everyone in the room was prepping for the delivery. Because my delivery was higher risk, they brought in more nurses, and everyone was getting their game face on. I figured it must be go time. (SIDE STORY: I remembered noticing a very young nurse person, and I found out later she was doing a high school mentorship. Well, she passed out during my delivery and no one noticed. One nurse finally noticed and carried her out. My labor and delivery nurse told us the story later, and then said, “That’s one less teenage pregnancy we have to worry about.” To which I replied, “Maybe I should make a video and send it to all the high schools…” Pretty funny.)

It was soon time to push.

I push through one contraction, and all of a sudden the nurse spreads the stirrups REALLY far apart, and they stretch my legs to go in them. It was highly uncomfortable, and not part of my previous deliveries. All I could think about between pushes was how much I wanted to bring my legs closer together. I remember asking about it, or commenting about it, not sure what I said, but the nurse replied it would be helpful with pushing out a large baby.

Well, it worked, that, and I could FEEL quite nicely (maybe ‘nicely’ isn’t the word…) where I needed to be pushing. Our baby was born at 9:44 AM.

Oh my, the pressure, the pain, the everything… He came out with a scream; actually two screams - one from me, and one from him. My last push turned into a grunt, moan, yell, and scream combo.

“It’s a man child,” my labor and delivery nurse, Melissa, exclaimed. (The nurses had decided they wouldn’t find out the sex of the baby until it was born because John still didn’t know, and they were afraid they would slip up if they knew.)

I didn’t see John’s face, because I was too tired to turn my head, or open my eyes, I don’t really remember, but I could picture it, and his smile, as he gave his joyful laugh, and said, “It’s a boy!” He was totally surprised. It was a sweet moment. He honestly thought we were having a girl.

Our baby was put on my belly to admire, and I’m still thinking I would love to bring my legs closer together. John cut the cord; they took the baby for his first bath, and the Doctor finished stitching me up. After the nurse cleaned me up some I was FINALLY able to bring my legs out of the stirrups and closer together.

Though that gave me a little bit of relief, I was still in a lot of pain. Pain I had never felt before. Though, similar to the pressure you feel during labor, but it was not going away. It kept hurting. I tried to be tough, but that didn’t last very long. The tears started rolling, and kept on coming. I was shaking and eventually to the point of sobbing.

The Doctor came back in to check on me because of my pain, and when he checked me he pushed on a spot and asked if it hurt, though he didn’t need to ask because my response was immediate. He told me I had probably cracked or bruised my tailbone. Now, I know I probably just bruised it. It still hurts, in case you were wondering. They gave me a shot of some drug that took the edge off pretty quickly, thank goodness. That whole pain episode took almost an hour by the time they gave me that shot. It was pretty miserable.

They kept me in the delivery room for longer than normal to keep an eye on me for various reasons. I guess when you have a larger baby there seems to be other complications that can arise. I was given a series of pills throughout my stay to help control my bleeding which was more than normal, I guess, due to having a large baby.

My nurse finally came in with a stretcher and said she was doing her good deed for the day. She said she wasn’t going to make me get in a wheel chair and would take me to the recovery room on the stretcher. (Little did she know, that I have always been taken to my recovery room on a stretcher with my other labors due to various reasons.) As she pushed me down the hall, to the other nurses that passed, my nurse would say, “Here’s the rock star,” or “She’s a rock star.” She was pretty funny.

I didn’t move from my bed for well over 24 hours. When I finally did, it was pretty bad, and the nurse called for one of those things you can stand on, and she pushed me back to my bed. They left my IV and Epidural port in just in case of something (not sure what) but eventually they came out. They had to call for someone from labor and delivery to take my Epidural thing out of my back, and when she came and was working on it, she asked why I still had it in. I told her it was something to do with having a ten-pound baby, and she goes, “10 lbs 7oz? We all know about you. You’re a rock star.” Too funny.

I enjoyed lots of yummy sugar cookies during my stay at the hospital. Honestly, I had been looking forward to those cookies for nine months! (and may have made John stop in the hospital cafeteria to “buy all they have” since I’ve been home from the hospital…) I enjoyed the quiet time with John and Jonah in the hospital. I think this baby was the first baby that we never sent to the nursery to be watched while I rested, or when John left.

We eventually bought “little” Jonah home. He’s so adorable, and we smother him with kisses. I’ll be holding Jonah, and John will offer to take him and lay him down, but I tell him, “No. We’re snuggling.” Or, John will come downstairs where I’m laying down holding Jonah on the couch and ask, “Are you going to share him?” Or, he’ll say, “It’s my turn.” We just can’t get enough.

Every day my belly shrinks a little more, and my heart grows a little bigger. I’ve fallen in love once again.

Our first meeting

Our second meeting

Because I had been in so much pain, after they took him to get his bath I didn't see him for a few hours because they were waiting for me to get more comfortable to be able to hold him. Usually John was in with all of our other babies while they got their bath and such, but I didn't want him to leave me this time. I needed his fingers to squeeze. For a while there I wasn't sure how I would even nurse him when they bought him to me because of my tailbone. We figured it out.


Poor Jonah was totally scratched up all over his body. He had fun inside of me clawing himself with his sharp talons. There were totally scratch patches all over his body.

Jonah has a cleft in his chin (I mostly refer to it as a butt chin) just like his mommy. It comes from my mom's side of the family, and is definitely a feature that is more attractive in a man.

A Lamb to the Slaughter

We go to the hospital tonight to start my induction... I'm 39 weeks tomorrow.

When I went to the hospital for my scheduled induction with Mallary, as I followed the nurse down the hallway to my room, I told her what a weird feeling it was to be walking into the hospital, not in labor, to go have a baby. The thought that crossed my mind was I felt like a lamb to the slaughter.

When I was pregnant with Trevan I was so scared for the labor part. I had no idea what to expect, and was really nervous. You would think that with baby number three, the labor part wouldn't be very intimidating. But, I think it's even more scary. It's like, now, I really know all the things that could possibly go wrong, etc. etc. I'm a paranoid person by nature, and I'm just a little nervous...

Last night, I went upstairs to go to bed (12:45 AM), and John was lying on the bed reading. All of a sudden, I was like, "Hello? Not all the stuff on the to do list got done this weekend, why are you reading??" "You didn't even hang up the mirror or my ribbon holder." (Because, obviously it's imperative those things are done before one can have a baby...) John goes, "We are not going to bed at two AM just so we can clean." I told him, "I just can't bring myself to go to bed when there is so much to do!" I went downstairs and started cleaning, and finishing up emails I had to send, etc. So, I went to bed at 2:30... The final days of nesting...

It's hard to explain the feelings I have about having another baby - about going to get induced - about bringing another baby home - about the nervousness of labor - etc.

For me, motherhood takes me from moments of wanting to get my tubes tied (my feelings last Thursday and Friday), to priceless, precious moments of pure joy and love for my children. There are definite highs and lows, but I love my children so much, and wouldn't trade this experience for anything - no matter how often I try to give Mallary away... I kid (but, not really) with John about what he's to do if I were to die in labor or something. I think it's the saddest, most horrible, heartbreaking thought ever, but I'm a paranoid person remember?

I love my children so much and am so grateful to be their mother. Though those words don't seem adequate, they are the only words I can think of to describe how I'm feeling.

Over and out for a few days... or weeks... who knows? :)

Almost there...

Here's some measurements for you:

My waist is 52.5 inches around.

From the bottom of my bra to the very bottom of my belly is 24.5 inches long. (and I'm a short torsoed person normally)

I just think this picture is funny...

A few notes:

*For the past few weeks, whenever I call John, he answers the phone, "Is it time?" I told my sister, and when I called her house last week, my niece answered the phone with, "Is it time?" Too funny.

*We were outside last week and all of a sudden Trevan told me, "Mom, I know it must be hard to carry a baby in your belly."

*I was leaving WalMart and I was walking next to a lady on a scooter thing, so my belly is at the same height as her face. She turned her head, saw my belly, and said, "OH. MY. GOODNESS. When are you due?" I told her, and she asked, "Twins?" I told her no, and she said, "Bless your heart." As I walked past her (yes, me, going faster than a scooter), I heard her still talking about me to another stranger passing by.

*Then, this morning: I was putting lotion on my arms while sitting next to Trevan, and he said, "How come your arms are so jiggly?" So kind. I can't wait to get back to the gym...

Showered with love

A couple of Saturdays ago, my friend gave me a baby shower. It was sweet of her, and felt totally spoiled. The top of the closet in the baby room is filled with diapers and wipes!!! I never had that with my first two kids, and it is sooo nice!

I love watching other people open presents, but I hate opening presents in front of other people, I feel so self concious and weird.

My friend, Melissa, put together a fabulous shower, with fabulous decorations and fabulous food. I don't know why I forgot my camera, but I stole some pictures from her facebook account.

Isn't that the prettiest diaper cake you've ever seen??

She had a game to see who could drink a bottle the fastest...

Rachel and Shasta. Shasta was hardcore and I thought she might have won...

Jennifer, and I. I really thought she was going to win...

Amanda and Samantha.

The winners: Serena and Meaghan.

It was such a nice shower, and to be there with friends. I felt so loved!

Nesting in the yard

We rented for quite a few years, and my husband always said he couldn't wait until we had our own yard, so that he could mow it, and we could plant a garden, etc. Seriously. He said that.

Let me tell you, I don't think he meant it.

Today my nesting moved to the outdoors. I'm not really sure what I was thinking, because my mobility is quite limited. (However, I did plant flower bulbs earlier this week. I put my gardening cushion on the ground and sat on it, and scooted around the bed.) Anyway, there's a lot to be done.

So, I got my helper, Trevan, and we went outside. (He ended up not actually helping...) I started with the blackberries - the old vines needed to be pulled/cut out, and the new vines needed to be lifted off the ground and put on the trellis thingy. I did that, and then decided to have John come outside and pull the weeds around it. (He was working on another project for me inside.)

Well, I thought while we were out there, we might as well do the raspberries too. John wasn't very excited about it, but willingly obliged. Unfortunately his lack of enthusiasm and interest cost me a few raspberry plants.

Then, his lack of enthusiasm and interest cost me a broken terra cotta drip plate thingy. He tossed it on the ground against the terra cotta pot - was he thinking it was plastic? Hmmm...

Then, I noticed that my cilantro grew back from last year. I was so excited! But, clover was crowding it, because we hadn't weeded the garden yet. So, I asked John to weed the clover away from the cilantro too. John started weeding, not really excited about it, and then stopped and said, "How do I tell what I'm supposed to weed and what I'm not?" handing me a clump of clover AND cilantro. He had already pulled up one patch of the cilantro... I wasn't very happy. And, while he was doing that he kept stepping on the strawberry plants... Sigh...

So, I came back inside to continue my nesting indoors...

So True - The Terrible Two's

Compliments of my two year old this morning...

Threw a tantrum outside my bedroom door
Dumped her bowl of Cheerios on the kitchen table
Opened the Dishwasher repeatedly (why does it not have a lock?!?!)
Opened the Fridge repeatedly - me tying it closed with a ribbon
Tried to get silverware out of the drawer to play with
Took off all of her clothes
Peed down her leg
Wrote on a kitchen chair
Took off her diaper again

And it's only 9:18...

This was/is my shopping list for my new baby:

Outfit to bring home from hospital
Nursing Cover
Carseat Cover
Bjorn
Boppy
Waterproof Boppy Cover
Pacifiers

I really think I need to add this to my shopping list:

Straight jacket

Soon to be Smothered

My pregnancy with baby number three is completely different than my pregnancy with baby number one. My pregnancy with baby number two was different than my pregnancy with baby number one. It was different in more ways than just how I carry, or how I feel, or the level of sickness I had.

When I think back to my pregnancy with Trevan, it really was a whole different world than I live in now. It was just John and I, our worlds basically revolved around each other, and our baby growing in my belly. We'd spend lazy time in bed just watching the "alien" make my stomach take on different shapes. John would put his lips to my belly and talk to the baby, and he'd sing songs to him. Granted, not full songs, for he always only knew the first verse or the chorus, and he usually messed those words up too. He loved to put his hand on my stomach and feel any movement I was experiencing. We spent countless hours adoring my pale belly quickly becoming covered with "pretty" pink lines (uh, stretch marks).

Then, when I was pregnant with Mallary, our world basically revolved around Trevan. We had less one on one time, or free time to just sit and adore my once again growing belly. John had fewer conversations with Mallary through my belly button, and unfortunately sang fewer songs. He wasn't as quick to reach his hand over to feel those alien movements, and watch the acrobatic show coming from my belly at bedtime. So, you can imagine it is even less with this new baby.

Often, during this pregnancy, I have felt sorry for this baby. I lie awake at night remembering all the attention Trevan received while he was in my womb, and feel bad that this baby doesn't receive the same. But, our lives are so different now. We don't have hours to lay in bed worshipping what's inside my ginormous belly like we did back then. Now, our world revolves around two little people, and really just making it through each day.

I think it's indescribable; the love a mother feels for her unborn child. It's like the worry for these new little beings must start once the embryos are created. I don't know how to explain it. I already worry about the fact that my new baby hasn't gotten the same attention that my other babies did while I was pregnant...

But, there are moments like one a week or so ago, when I found myself sitting on the couch, Mallary had pulled up my shirt, and everyone had at least one of their hands on my belly waiting to feel the baby's next movement. (You know your belly is big when your whole family can fit both hands on it...) I looked at my little family gathered around me, all with a hand on my belly, taking turns talking or singing (or scream singing) into my belly button to communicate with the baby; all the focus on this new little one. It was like a Hamilton family team huddle - you know how a team circles around, all hands in the middle, and then you say, "Goooo team!" or some other motivational chant. All rooting for this new little baby, already loving "it," and excited at it's very existence.

Then, I feel better. In a lot of ways this baby has some advantages over Trevan. Sure, we devoted more attention to him than this baby while in my womb, but this baby's arrival is not only anticipated by it's parents, but by two siblings that can't wait to smother "it" with love.

And, trust me, I'm sure 'smother' is the appropriate word to use.

37.5 weeks

Or as my Doctor describes it, "the bitter end." (Not as if he knows, but he does a good job showing sympathy for me.)

I had a checkup yesterday, was checked (sooo fun), and no real progress... What?? These contractions are totally not paying off!

If my baby doesn't come before, I'm shceduled to go in on the 12th to start my induction. At least there's a scheduled end in sight... Though if we go that far I may be pushing out a 14 pound baby. Okay, April Fools! Not 14 pounds... maybe 11? (Hopefully, that's an April Fools too...)

Here's some pictures of me, technically taken at 36 weeks, but whatever.

This is the blouse equivalent of a Hawaiin moo moo. That's about whats fitting me these days...

John kept telling me to smile, and I was. "Your smile looks like you're in pain," he'd tell me. Well, then the picture will adequately describe what I'm feeling like these last days of pregnancy.

Trust me, black really is slimming...

I look bigger than this... This picture is to show how low my belly starts, but you really can't tell. I can't take a bare bellied picture to show you this, because then you'd have to flag my blog for adult content...

Remember our Labor and Delivery Readiness Report Card? I am happy to write that we have now received A's in all areas, except having a clean house. As much as I'd like to bring a new baby home to a spotless house, realistically, it may not happen. But, as my Grandma said, I'd be cleaning it again after I got home anyway. So, we'll keep trying...

Tuesday Tips?

Yesterday was exhausting. So exhausting, that I sat down earlier to blog about it in detail, and even writing about it made me exhausted. So, here is the Readers Digest version:

Late night/early morning with kids in our bed due to the tornado warnings

Mallary throwing her cereal All OVER the kitchen. Me getting on my hands and knees to clean the floor and walls (I know my husband thinks I never do this, he has no idea...)

Working all morning on the computer trying to order supplies for my business, and organizing other business details.

Bribing my children with a BAG of Easter candy to make sure they were quiet while I was on the phone with a client taking their order. Grateful to understanding client when bribe didn't work and had to excuse myself for a moment to get Mallary to be quiet.

Two potty training incidents (plus chasing my daughter repeatedly to get any diaper or panties on her). Me sitting on the floor cleaning pee out of the carpet. (I could care less about potty training right now, it's my independent daughter who thinks she's ready but obviously doesn't mind peeing in the floor.)

One trip to Sam's Club, and another store that did go smoothly because John met me there.

Went to two different Michaels to find supplies for the business.

In the last store the kids were obviously done, as was I. But, here is a sample of what the check out line is like for me now in most stores:

Lady behind me: "So, any day now?"
Me giving my polite smile: "That would be nice."
Lady: "When are you due?"
Me: "April 2oth."
Lady: "Twins?"
Me: "Nope."
Lady with wide eyes: "Oh."

She forgot something and got out of line. Had a similar conversation with the next person who got behind me. Had the same conversation with the check out lady, except hers started with the twins question.

While, I'm checking out my kids are totally NOT listening to me, and have all these coloring, and sticker books all over the floor. I check out, and they aren't listening, and I'm trying to put all the books away, and a lady that was in the check out line with me walked behind me and said,

"You really shouldn't be bending over," and kept walking.

I wanted to say, "Well, obviously my kids aren't listening to me, and you didn't offer to help, and I'm not going to leave a mess in the store, so what was my other option????"

Then, we leave the store, Mallary evades me grabbing her hand, and runs away thinking it's funny. RUNNING TOWARDS THE ROAD WITH ONCOMING CARS. So, big pregnant lady had to RUN to stop her, and then Mallary had a nice time out sitting in mulch. (Which, unfortunately, I think she actually enjoyed because she was playing in it.)

The afternoon was filled with a tired two year old, some whining, some melt downs, Mallary locking me out of the house when I went outside to get the mail, and me making a phone call at 5:15 PM to my husband at work telling him he needed to hurry home...

Dinner was filled with normal nuisances that drive us crazy.

The kids finally went to bed, and I started on the three orders I needed to fill, but did take a one hour break to rest my belly.

At 1:30 AM, I took my much needed shower and finally fell into bed around 2.

I PROMISE, that really was the Reader's Digest version... I left out LOTS of things!

I had really wanted to write a clever Tuesday Tips today, but I just wasn't in the mood. Feel free to leave your own Tuesday Tip for me in the comments. I can think of about fifty things I should have tipped myself off of not to do yesterday...

Holding hands

Two weeks ago, I sat in the Doctor's office, mindlessly flipping through a magazine while waiting to be seen about my early contractions. I couldn't concentrate on the magazine due to my contractions and my worry about going into labor early, and all the anxiety that comes along with that.

The door to go back into the office opened, and a pregnant woman who looked like she could deliver any moment due to the way she was walking, accompanied by someone, obviously her mother, came and sat down a few chairs over from me.

My emotions took over. All of a sudden, I wished my mom was there with me. I could not stop myself from crying. I lowered my head, and raised my magazine to try to hide my face from everyone waiting in the waiting room. At that moment I really missed my mom, and felt a little bit sorry for myself. I eventually pulled myself together and I was finally called back.

The nurse asked her standard questions, and then sent me to the bathroom to give my urine sample, and I lost it again. I could not stop crying. I was just really sad, and being 34 weeks pregnant and emotional didn't help the situation. I eventually pulled myself together again, but lost it off and on a little bit a little while later when checking myself into the hospital, and off and on the first few hours while I was in the hospital, and the rest is history.

Today, we had tornado warnings, and Trevan FREAKED out. It was storming, but John must have been watching basketball, and Trevan heard them talk about the warning on TV during that. He would not come to the dinner table, and I took him in the living room to calm him down. I told him a little about tornadoes, answered some of his questions, and told him if he was really scared he could pray to help him feel better and to be safe. He goes, "Can I pray right now?" It was pretty funny.

You should have seen him as he ate his dinner. He was quite a bit calmer after he prayed, but he really was practically shaking, his eyes kept watering up, and he kept asking questions about tornadoes, thunder, and lightening. We finished eating, but were still sitting at the table, and all of sudden Trevan got down and started walking to the living room.

"Trevan, where are you going?" I asked

"I'm done," he said.

"But, where are you going?"

"I'm going to hide in the bathroom," he stated very matter of factly. (We had told him, that's where we need to go if we hear a tornado.)

Later on tonight, Trevan and I were sitting on the couch in the living room, John was sitting in the floor, and Mallary was dancing to the songs John was singing. Trevan was kind of singing, alternating with humming, trying to be engaged, but I could tell he wasn't. A few minutes earlier we had turned on the TV to see where we stood with the tornadoes, and I think it made him start worrying again, but he wasn't saying anything.

I reached over, and grabbed his hand to hold. He held on, and even moved his other hand to be interlocked with mine as well. We held hands, while we watched Mallary dance, and listened to John sing. I could see the worry so clearly in his face, and it made me get a little choked up...

At that moment, I remembered the feeling I felt while waiting in the Doctor's office two weeks earlier. I think I had just needed and wanted my mother to be there - to reach over and hold my hand. Just like she had when I was scared while I was in labor with Trevan, and just like she had done many other times in my life.

I sat there holding Trevan's hands while my eyes watered. I so wanted to wipe the worry off of his face, and take away his fear. My mom spent most of her life doing just that with her cold, clammy hands. Now, I guess it's my turn - minus the cold, clammy hands.

I am Woman

hear me roar. (Two posts in one month with a Helen Reddy reference...)

Last night, before heading up the stairs to shower, my belly was going to drive me insane with it's itchiness! With skin stretched to the max, this is a common occurrence. The itching was on the very underside of my belly; the part I can't see, the part that touches my thighs when sitting, or walking up stairs.

I remove my clothes to get in the shower, and I find blood on them, a warning sign for any pregnant woman. Upon closer examination, it looked like the bleeding came from my thigh. I looked at my thigh and saw a trace of blood, but no wound. I called John up the stairs to investigate. I couldn't see the underside of my belly, so someone had to check it out.

In my efforts to relieve the itching, I had scratched myself raw in one area, and when climbing the stairs, the place where my belly and thigh met was where the blood rubbed off.

As my husband got me some toilet paper to hold on my scratch, I was feeling a little annoyed (from a scratch?!).

"Please tell me," I ask him in an annoyed tone, "what do men have to go through, or put up with? What pains do you have to bear in this life?"

He paused at the entrance of our bathroom, "Ummm... we deal with hormones." He smiled.

"Your own?" I ask, "Try again."

"We have to deal with teenagers." he said.

I roll my eyes, and just look at him.

"We have to work." he said.

"Yeah, women work too - and have babies, and periods, and deal with other womanly issues, all at the same time. Cry me a river."

He could tell there would be no good answers in this conversation, and as he walked out of our bedroom, he said, "Hey, Eve ate the apple first..."

"Thanks!" I called after him. While I showered, I thought about how easy men have it.

It's funny that that was my evening, and then this morning, I read this post on this blog. Read it. You can even read it now, and come back here if you'd like. It's about being a woman, and the divinity within women. I loved it. Really, we women are awesome, the potential we have within each of us is amazing. I mean, hello, we can multi-task for heaven's sake!

Seriously, I think women are so powerful! We were divinely designed to be powerful.

One of my favorite quotes from the post I read this morning was this:

"She isn't less than, or more than, the next woman or man. She is her own entity which becomes cheapened when compared to others. When following the promptings inside of her soul to do whatever is important for her own life plan she simply has no equal."

I've felt that way for a long time now. I stopped comparing myself to others a long time ago, because I realized there is no other woman like me, and there is no other woman like you. There is no one to impress, but yourself. There is no one to compete with, but the forces trying to make you not follow the promptings you receive. I've been given a special set of talents, and you've been given a special set of talents, and when we follow through with those we have "no equal" because we don't share the same set of talents to compare. When we follow through with our talents, potential, and the "promptings inside our soul," we might as well be wearing our super woman capes.

Because, we really are super women.

And, occasionally, super women forget they are super women, and whine about scratches on the underside of their ginormous pregnant bellies.

36th Week Updates

* Drinking milk (my absolute favorite beverage) makes me want to vomit.

* I eat Cream of Wheat (no sugar, 1 - 2 T. of milk) for at least one meal a day because that doesn't make me want to vomit.

* I almost have my bags packed for the hospital. Almost...

* At my ultrasound today, the baby weighed in at 8lbs 4oz. The majority of women don't even deliver that big of a baby at 40 weeks... I guess I'm just special.

***Maybe I'll post a picture of my ginormous belly tomorrow. Though pictures don't quite do it justice.

Taking it easy

My sister, Marianne came down last weekend when I went into the hospital. I had planned to go spend the weekend with her, but Friday morning I knew that wouldn't be happening. When I told her on the phone from the hospital that I was supposed to rest all weekend, she asks, "Not even one shopping trip?"

When my sister's and I get together we like to shop (well, even when we aren't together...). Well, I didn't want to have my baby early, but I wanted to do some shopping too... so, I borrowed a wheel chair.

The wheel chair my husband and brother in law picked out was LAME. It didn't have foot rests, so while I wasn't having to walk, I was still having to hold my legs up which caused contractions too. After we left the first store with the wheel chair, my sister couldn't close it. If we were swearing people, we would have been swearing. John called about the time Marianne had been trying to close it for what seemed like 10 minutes, and he kept repeating, "just lift and pull at the same time." After the fourth time of him telling me that, and I had already told him that was what she was doing I told him, "I'm hanging up now."

We finally got it in the car, and then decided we didn't want to attempt taking it out again, but we ended up hitting two more stores. Not very good of me, but I paid for it when we went to Target.

I wanted to get some body wash, and I thought it would be by the shampoo, or at least near it. I could not find it! My sister and I split up, and I was having contractions, and tired, and frustrated that I couldn't find it. I just stood there and called my sister's name, not having the energy to find her, but got no response. I gave up, and sat down right at the end of the aisle. I felt kind of stupid when a Target person eventually came around the corner, so I got up, and then my sister showed up. The body wash was at least three aisles down. It made no sense to me. Needless to say, we ended our shopping for the weekend.

My contractions aren't regular anymore, but they still come often. I've only had to take my medication once to stop contractions since I've been home from the hospital. But, let's just say this has been the most uncomfortable I have ever been in any of my pregnancies. Sitting down hurts because I guess my baby is so low it puts a lot of pressure on me because "it" doesn't like the pressure on "it." This post alone took at least three short sittings to write because I can't sit very long. I can also barely walk - seriously. I limit climbing my stairs to a few times a day. I told my sister on the phone yesterday that it would be nice if she could come and carry Mallary up the stairs for her nap... I finally mustered the energy to do it at THREE O'CLOCK in the afternoon! Just a few hours late. I try to still accomplish things; there is so much to do - but I am forced to lay down often to rest my belly and the 50 extra pounds I'm lugging around! That's right, you heard me, FIVE - ZERO! So, I lay on the couch and watch Sesame Street, Sid the Science Kid, and Barney; I'm learning so much...

Anyway, I think my sitting time limit is up... Super Why awaits.

The Hamiltons Labor and Delivery Readiness Report Card

In some ways it's nice to have a trial run just to see how prepared, or in our case, how UNprepared you are...

On Friday morning, I called my OB because of weird contractions, and they told me to come in. On my drive to the office, my contractions started getting regular - about eight minutes apart. The OB checked me, I wasn't dilated and zero effaced, but he sent me to check in at the hospital to get fluids, do an ultrasound, and get a shot to stop the contractions (because I was only almost 35 weeks).

After I was hooked up to the monitors, my contractions started coming 3-5 minutes apart. I was getting a little nervous... but the baby was fine.

I had an ultrasound that took at least an hour (I think it really took longer, but I lost track of the time). My baby would not stop moving. The tech said she's never seen a baby this far along, and this big, be so active! I was really getting beat up, and I was hurting from lying on my back for so long. Plus, I was almost done a bag of fluids, and the baby kept using my bladder as a punching bag! I was a tad bit uncomfortable. In fact, you could describe the whole day as uncomfortable; beating my veins up with trying to get the IV's in, laying/sitting in uncomfortable positions - I was so ready to leave!!

After I got my shot to stop contractions, the contractions went to 10-13 minutes apart, and then even a little bit farther apart. My ultrasound measured the baby to be about 7.5 pounds (which could be off a pound either way), and that I have a lot of amniotic fluid which could be adding to the discomfort. It showed that "it" has hair and a good layer of fat!

Anyway, I was released with a perscription for the drug to stop my contractions, told to drink lots of water, and lay on my side all weekend (more on that another day).

Anyway... needless to say that morning was a little stressful. Luckily, John was already sceduled to go into work later and was there to help, but getting the kids ready to go to a friends, me getting ready, and thinking we could be having a baby that day... it was a little hectic. We found out how unprepared we are for "D" day.

Here's our report card:

Bags packed: F
Cameras charged and ready: F
Cell phones charged and ready: D-
Baby's new outfit purchased and washed: A
Baby's new outfit packed and ready: F
Car seat cover washed, straps adjusted: F
House clean: F
Baby Diapers purchased: F
Pajamas for me to wear in the hospital purchased: F
Pedicure done: F
Baby's name chosen: F
Baby's cradle & bedding out of storage: A
Baby's cradle & bedding put together: D-

Yes, we have a lot of work to do...

Will it be sooner than later?

It was a busy day yesterday...

34 week check up (I'm measuring full term, in case you wanted an idea of how large I am...)

Yet, one more "clean catch" urine sample.

Pick up Trevan's shot record to register him for Kindergarten

A stop at 6 stores PLUS take the kids to the Pet store

A very last minute order to fill for a store (yay for a new client!)

Soccer practice

All the while having contractions... and being nauseous.

We get home from soccer practice and John warms up dinner while I am very uncomfortable, and basically hurting. Right after dinner, I asked John to go and clean our large bath tub - I needed a bath! (Do you remember my bath taking criteria? Refresh Here.) I was starting to get a little nervous... I needed to take a bath to make my contractions go away, and I knew if they didn't go away then we were going to be getting ready for another baby sooner than we thought.

Let me just give you a brief synopsis on how this went down. John started cleaning the big tub, but we were also going to give the kids a bath, so I went and sat with them in the other bathroom while I waited for John to finish. Then I went to go shower in my bathroom (I have to shower before I take a bath. It's easier for me to relax in a bath if I know I'm clean, and not soaking in dirty water. I know, I'm weird.), but the shower did not meet my standards to shower in. (I never use that shower, and John's standards for a clean shower aren't the same as mine, but since I don't use it, I let him clean it at his leisure.) So, I move the kids with their bath crayons into the dirty shower to write on the walls (They had only been drawing in the tub, we hadn't started any water yet.), and I took a shower in my normal shower. When I was done, I went and got into the clean tub, and John put the kids in the tub I just got out of. Confused yet?

So, I start to draw the water for my hot bath. Though, in a few minutes I realized the water was cold - the hot water was gone! I yelled to John that I had no hot water, and he yelled back that they didn't either. John had used hot water to wash the bath tub, and I had used hot water for my (very quick) shower.

There I sat in my large bath tub, with my large belly, and my legs just barely covered with hot water. It was glorious... Here I was trying to relax, and it was producing just the opposite. I stared at my toes, that were not even covered by water, thinking, "I really wanted to get a pedicure before I had my baby..." Then I thought of all the other projects I wanted to finish before the baby came, and what a mess everything was, and feeling a little anxiety. Pair that with listening to my kids scream from the other bathroom as John tries to rinse their suds off with cool water, and I wasn't feeling very relaxed.

Eventually, we got hot water back, filled the tub, and two hours later I got out of the tub contraction free. I had been scared by not feeling ready for this baby, and called a friend to finalize my "what if I go into labor in the middle of the night plan." I feel a little more prepared now...

After my bath, I even felt good enough to do some work! I eventually moved to the couch and fell asleep before Jay's monologue was even over. I woke up at 2:30, woke John up (who had made a bed on the floor), and we went up to bed. I asked John, if he was awake enough to move to the floor and make himself comfortable, why didn't he wake me up so we could go to bed??? He said, "you sleep better on the couch than in bed." Sweet, but once I have gotten that much sleep in me, I find it hard to go back to sleep, and often don't.

Such was the case last night/this morning. I was lying in bed, listening to John snore, feeling nauseous, and all of a sudden I wanted some jello. Then I remembered I forgot to send an email for my work, and just decided to get up at four.

So, if you'll excuse me I think my lime jello is set up by now...

Cravings

I don't really have any certain cravings when I'm pregnant. There are things that definitely sound good or sound bad; but no pickles, or dirt, or anything.

But, lately, I've been craving Special K cereal. Late at night. Middle of the day. Random times. The thing is I don't really like cereal, and I don't eat it very often. I especially don't like cereal that gets soggy before you finish it, and Special K is one of those cereals.

Luckily, I'm not craving triple chocolate, calorie laden desserts late at night. So, I should be counting my blessings, I guess.

Speaking of cereal, look HERE to see what will be on my other blog this week.

picture found here

Bun in the Oven Funnies

We went out to dinner last night, and it happens at least once every pregnancy; I BARELY fit in the booth. Like uncomfortable barely fit. John could move the table only a little, but my belly still hit right up against the table. John asked if I wanted to move to a table instead of being in a booth, but I didn't really want to be like, "Ummm... could you move us to a table so my belly can breathe?" It wouldn't have been a big deal, but I fit... kind of.

At the beginning of my pregnancy I was shopping for riding boots. It only took one day of shopping in my skinny jeans and trying on boots when I realized I wouldn't be wearing skinny jeans while pregnant. Cute, tiny, pregnant woman look great in skinny jeans. Rounder, larger women... well, I felt like a Weeble Wobble toy. Don't know what those are...

So, just imagine those Weeble Wobbles with skinny legs. Kind of makes for an odd body, don't you think? Playskools catchy tune with Weeble Wobbles was, "Weebles Wobble, but they don't fall down." For me it would have been, "Weebles Waddle, but they don't fall down..."

One more funny for you:

Last Saturday, John and I actually went on a date for dinner. We walk in the restaurant (a pub kind of restaurant bar/grill type of place), and the hostess asks us, "Are you just drinking tonight? Or will you be ordering food?" I kind of just look at her, with my belly far out there, thinking, "Should I be drinking tonight??" John said, "Maybe she couldn't tell you were pregnant..."

Okay, that leads me to one more:

I sit down in a pew at church two Sundays ago, and the person in front of my leans back and says, "I have to tell you this. I'm not sure how your name came up at our house this week, but it did, and my husband didn't realize you were pregnant. We had a good laugh at that." I also had a good laugh at that, because that was a first for me. I mean I have spoken to this man many times during my pregnancy, and for someone to think I have just been getting a little heavier... who gains weight and carries it just in their belly as far out as I am? It was pretty funny.

I still have over a month to go, there's bound to be more funnies...