Henry Hyde

So we went in to have a baby on May 1st. I almost had a promise from my doctor that we would get induced that night. I kept having regular, though unproductive, contractions that would go on for hours. Fortunately, they put me on pitocin right away and I was off. It took a while to get my contractions going nice and strong, and I ended up needing a second epidural (since the first one left a "window" over my left hip).

The nurse midwife was awesome! She did her masters study in positioning women for labor. Apparently, if you prop up a woman in just the right way, it will help the baby come out much easier and better. So, I was cuddled with numerous pillows and blankets while I was waiting for Henry to make his appearance.

At about 3pm on May 2nd, I informed one of the nurses that I thought something must be happening since I was finally starting to feel a tiny bit of pressure. I figured I must be a ways off since I had felt a whole lot of discomfort with Audrey right before she came. When the midwife came in and checked me, little Henry's head was about two inches from coming out on it's own! If I hadn't said anything, I probably would have had that baby by myself! (Scary!!)

Two good pushes and he was out. All I wanted to know was whether he was a boy or not. I gave away all my girl clothes and I was worried that a surprise girl would end up going home naked!

So at 3:32pm on May 2nd, my little Henry Hyde joined the family. He was a solid 7 lbs 8 oz and 20 3/4 inches long.

All I can say is "Thank Heaven I'm not pregnant anymore!"


So relieved to have such a sweet boy in my arms.


"Why is it so cold and so bright and so loud?!?"

You'll be so big before I know it!

By way of updates

I'm completely and utterly exhausted. On top of that, I feel guilty because my daughter didn't get to celebrate her 2nd birthday yesterday. I know she doesn't know the difference yet, but I do and that's the point.

Tuesday afternoon and evening I started having contractions regularly (about 3 to 4 minutes apart). We contacted some friends and decided to wait to see if they would settle down. They lasted about an hour and a half and then let up. I had my weekly appointment on Wednesday (is it really only Thursday today??) and was told by the doctor that if I had more contractions like that to just go in to the L&D Triage and see if I could have a baby.
Wednesday afternoon the contractions started up again and were about 2 to 3 minutes apart. We made a call to the doctors office to see how long they wanted us to track them before going in. While waiting for them to call back, we settled Audrey at her little friend Theo's house. When the doctors office finally called back, we'd been tracking the contractions for about an hour and a half. They told us to just come on in.

So, I was thinking to myself: Okay, this is it.

Yeah.

Let me tell you, an IV is only worth-while if you get ADMITTED. Never mind if they can't get it right the first time and have to do it over again...

They pumped me full of fluids to see if dehydration was causing the contractions. A liter and some later, no dice.

After more than 4 hours they decided that even though I was having regular contractions, they weren't doing anything. So, apparently, I have a stupid, lazy uterus that doesn't want to do it's job. By this point, I was nearly delirious and couldn't even think straight. I wasn't too tired, however, to be a bit ticked about being told to go in for no good reason. Grumble, grumble.

So, we let Audrey stay at her friend's house rather than get her up out of bed at 9pm. Poor thing! No birthday!

We picked her up early this morning (no sleeping in) and have been running ever since. We went to the mall to see if we can walk this baby out. Then we went to her 2 year check-up. The Dr. K thinks she's doing very well and is quite surprised at how observant she is. He toyed with the idea of autism for a few minutes but quickly threw it out because she doesn't follow the normal patterns for that. She's just a smart girl who notices EVERYTHING (including what we don't want her to).

She got two pokes today. One in the leg (Hep B, I think) and one on her finger. They were checking for diabetes because we mentioned how Audrey seems to be constantly thirsty. Everything turned out okay but we did take a very tired, very sad girl out of the office and had to talk to her all the way home to keep her from crying herself into a fit. Poor girl.

Oh, when they checked her blood sugar, that little finger poke bled like crazy. She got it all over her leg, the exam table, her foot, her stomach, her other hand and I don't know what else.

As I sit typing this, she is on the couch yawning. I'd like to think she'll have a nice, long nap this afternoon.... but I know better.

Cat Burglars and The Pregnant Belly Massacre

I am not always happy about Ben going to work overnight. Most of the time I accept it as a necessary evil, but occasionally I hate it with a passion. Such a time was 3am Tuesday morning. I woke with a start upon hearing

"CLUNK-THUMP-BANG!"

To my sleep addled brain, it sounded like a door being shut. I remember thinking, "What is Ben doing home?" After throwing out that idea, I thought, "WHO'S IN MY HOUSE?!?" I was up and out of my bed faster than any pregnant woman should be able to move and out the bedroom door. In hindsight I am not sure what I would have done if I HAD found someone in my house that shouldn't be there. Granted, a hugely pregnant woman running around her house in her underwear would be scary to just about everyone, including herself.

After wandering round my house for a minute, I went back to bed and laid there wide awake, adrenaline pumping. I was thinking to myself that it must have been one of the cats trying to scale one of the baby gates to the kitchen. In spite of this irritating but comforting thought, I continued to obsess about the sound. I convinced myself shortly that the culprit must have been hiding while I was streaking through the house and must be quietly stealing all my stuff now.

I left my room again and inspected my house again, this time with lights on. Not completely satisfied, I went back to bed but grabbed my phone so that I could text Ben about my silly behavior. I figured he was the one who could make me feel at ease.

Three messages and no response later, I left my bedroom and went to cry on my couch. Horrible ideas coursed through my brain as to why Ben wouldn't answer me. Though, how the invisible burglar got from my house to Ben's work and incapacitated him, I don't know. I finally called Ben, who had been taking a cat nap and didn't hear his phone, and talked for a while. He managed to make me feel a tiny bit better. However, by this time I was far too awake to go back to bed. I turned on the TV and watched terrible 4am programing.

Now, here is the icing on the crap cake of my morning. While curled up on the couch, Squeaky (the little monster we are cat-sitting) decided to pick on Patches. I discerned a flurry of movement out of the corner of my eye and a series of hisses assaulted my ears. Just as I was looking around to see what was up, Patches chose to use my giant tummy as an escape springboard. After chasing the offending critters around and whispering my yells at them, I returned to the couch to examine my wounds.


Please note the two scratches on the upper left and the two scratches on the lower right, along with a couple of small punctures. Owwich!

The Angel I didn't know I knew

I met an Angel today. Well, I already knew him... I just didn't know he was an Angel, which is usually the way it goes.

I had been suffering with this obnoxious heart-racing-because-my-body-is-retarded-when-I'm-pregnant issue ALL DAY. This time was worse because if I happened to be sitting up while it happened, I would get dizzy or light-headed. Laying down calmed it temporarily but the moment I returned to a sitting position it came back. Another side-effect of this problem was that it left me weak and shaky. We couldn't seem to figure out anything that would stop it or at least make it more manageable.

By about 2:30 I was at my wit's end and was contemplating going to the hospital to make sure there wasn't anything really wrong. I was finally hit by inspiration and asked Ben for a blessing. He started calling friends from the ward to find someone who could come and assist. He was able to contact Glen who just needed a ride to our house, so Ben ran out to pick him up.

Of course, the blessing itself was wonderful and made me feel much better. Glen asked what had been ailing me and upon explanation, he felt along my spine explaining something about the "T3" controlling the heart. Glen is a chiropractor and, with my permission, performed a mini-adjustment in my family room.

What he did seemed akin to the practices of a witch-doctor; unexplainable and somewhat magical. I have always been skeptical of chiropractic treatment and have placed it in the same category as acupuncture, massage therapy and other non-medical treatments. I suppose I will have to admit that I was wrong. Within a half-hour, I was sitting up fairly comfortably and felt more alert than I had all day.

I'm not sure how much of my current state of comfort is as a result of the blessing or Glen's skill. Ben threw out the possibility that part of the blessing was in bringing Glen to our house. Whatever the reason, I feel much better this evening and am grateful for it.

Angels are everywhere and sometimes I'm smart enough to recognize them when they show up.

Pregnancy Updates

The last week and a half has been a little difficult for me.
Sunday, the 25th, while having breakfast I realized that I was having difficulty breathing. I had been unconsciously trying to sit up straighter or stretch my back to relieve it. None of that worked and that's when I think I noticed the problem in the first place. This made me anxious because I couldn't think of any reason why it should be happening.
The breathing problem continued through the morning in Sacrament Meeting and this upset me (not helping the problem at all). I was just sitting there, doing nothing! Ben and I remembered this happening while I was pregnant with Audrey and so he started checking my pulse. Sitting there, not exerting myself at all, my pulse was up at about 100bpm! That revelation did nothing for my attempts to calm myself down either. We ended up leaving church early (which I felt guilty about) and I laid down as soon as I got home.
The shortness of breath/racing heart hasn't gone away in the last week and a half. In fact, a couple of days that we were checking my pulse, I was topping up at 120bpm. We called my doctors office and they said what I was experiencing was fairly normal and not to worry about it unless I wasn't able to go about my normal routine.

I was just starting to get the hang of that when I started having mild contractions on Monday. They weren't painful, just very uncomfortable. They were coming at about 15 minutes apart and ranged from barely noticeable to "I can't MOVE!!" Again, they seemed to be triggered by nothing. By dinner, they hadn't gone away and we called a good friend who was a nurse way back when. She suggested drinking an obscene amount of water and resting. She said if they didn't start going away after that, to call my doctors office. Eighty to ninety ounces of water and 2 hours later, they hadn't quit, so we called the doctors office. When the on call doctor called back, they were starting to fade. He told us not to worry unless they started coming at about 10 minutes apart... oh, wonderful.

So, I've been keeping up on the water and trying to rest (much to the consternation of my inner cleaning lady). I didn't have any contractions that I was aware of yesterday. Apparently, my little issues aren't uncommon enough to warrant notice from anyone but the people it directly effects.

We'll keep you all updated on my progress. I'm sure everything will be fine, but I'm not having any fun in the mean time. On that happy note....

Pregnant Hot Dog

Since I am not allowed to sleep on my back anymore, I have two body pillows that I sleep with at night. I hug one while I (try to) sleep and the other is stuffed next to my back in case I try to roll into the off-limits position while I repose. According to the books, internet, etc, the left side is supposed to be the ideal side to sleep on, maximizing blood flow. So, I usually try to start out my evening dutifully sleeping on that side. This typically only lasts a few hours at which time I will wake up and need to switch to my right side, tuck body pillows in around me again and sleep some more.
This typically goes on all night; every few hours changing position and restuffing body pillows accordingly. As you can imagine, I don't get a lot of sleep.

This morning, while trying to get my sorry self in gear for our 9am church session, I was pondering my night of flip-flopping. I turned to Ben and said, "I feel like a hot dog on one of those turner things."

"You what?" came the appropriate response. After explaining, Ben laughed and said, "You have to blog about that!"

Me, the pregnant hot dog. Turning, turning, turning... all... night.

Officially Surreal

It's official. We're having a boy! We found out at our last doctor appointment almost a week ago. I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of having a boy. First of all, I know nothing about baby boys except the rumors that they have the knack of peeing all over when you take off their diaper. (Yay.)
For those of you who don't know, having a boy in the Thompson family is a bit of an anomaly. If my count is correct, by the time our baby is born, he will be the 15th grandchild, including stepchildren. Of those 15 grandchildren, he will only be the second boy to be born. The eldest grandson is now 15 years old! So, as you can tell, it has been a loooooong time since a boy has been born in this family.
Aside from me knowing virtually nothing about boys, the other potential problem we are facing is the fact that all the clothes, blankets and majority of toys have all been geared toward girls. We will also need to get another bed and probably a hundred other things I haven't thought about yet. (Yay.)
We were unintentionally smart about getting a non-gender specific carseat/stroller. Quite a lot of the baby toys (bouncer, activity pad, etc) have also been for boys and girls. I don't suppose our little boy will go lacking.. but it is a strain to think of what we will need.

In the meantime, I've been trying to fathom the prospect of "boy".... I used the words "your son" when talking with Ben a few days ago and he had to stop and think about that for a minute. So, just when I think I'm getting the hang of this mom thing... here comes another adventure that I feel utterly unprepared for.
Oh, and just a last minute thought... It's fairly easy to find a cute blessing dress for a baby girl.. but what about a handsome little suit for a baby boy??? Is there any way to make a white suit NOT look like a blast from the past, a la Saturday Night Fever?? I suppose we could just find a sweet little traditional suit, because, I'm sorry... we're never going to put a little boy in those blessing/Christening outfits that look like a dress. No flippin way!

Flutter

It may have just been muscle twitches.

I think I felt a "flutter" at 4am...

New Haircut

Okay, so I don't have a picture yet since Ben took my camera with him to Arizona this weekend, but I got a new haircut on Friday. It's pretty amazing what a nice clean (light) haircut will do for you. I got a faux hawk.. yes, sortof like a mohawk, but not. I found a picture online.. it's not as cute as mine (since I'm so cute) but it will illustrate what I'm talking about.
The sides are really short and the top is cropped so that it comes to a point in the center. A little gel (or expensive salon "Taffy") and *poof* Fauxhawk!

So, the haircut (or haircute if you like... heehee) isn't quite what I was wanting to talk about exactly, but you might say it caused the events of today. Indirectly.. or directly.. I'm not sure.

I was getting dressed for church today and was thinking.. "If I'm not careful, I'm going to look like a boy in a skirt. THAT wouldn't be good." I pondered for a while about that. Now, I know I wouldn't really look like a boy in a skirt, but I certainly wouldn't look like a cute little feminine mommy. That has almost always been a stretch for me, though.

So, I figured the cure-all for that was a splash of makeup. I haven't worn makeup in more than 3 months since I'm usually too tired or too confident to even bother... Ben told me once that I didn't need makeup and I've been taking him completely to his word ever since. I now only wear makeup when I darn well feel like it.

So, all cute and femmy, I walked into church with Audrey throwing fits next to me. (She didn't want to be there.) One of my good friends (who has had really awful pregnancies herself) leaned over a pew and said: "Hey! How are you? Are you feeling better? You look like you're feeling better."
I, a triffle confused, said: "Oh, it depends on the moment, but I'm okay right now."
She said: "Yeah, I thought so, you have some color to your face!"

To eat or not to eat...

Is there anything better than a piece of toast with butter and Apple Butter smeared all over? Yes! Two pieces of toast with butter and Apple Butter smeared all over... oh yeah...

I have really started to appreciate what my stomach will accept and what it won't. I can't stomach a whole lot of sweets (good thing) or a whole lot of milk (sad thing). I am constantly bemused by what I think I want and the moment I take a bite: Whoa! This is disgusting!

I have been confused by my stomach several times, thinking it is telling me "you're hungry" when really it's telling me "Stop! I can't take anymore.. where are the Tums!?!" Boy, does it make me pay when I do that. I wish I could just NOT eat and feel fine. No hope for that, unfortunately.

I am amazed at how just a passing thought can make me feel sick... (Fish oil pills) I am also amazed at how much tripe (sometimes literally) I can watch on TV and NOT feel sick... (I recently found out what tripe is...I can't believe people eat it.. sick!)

I am looking forward to the day that I wake up and don't feel like worshiping the porcelain deity. If this pregnancy is anything like the first.. it might be another month.. here's hoping for an early reprieve.

Updates... boring and .... boring.

Well, okay... I think I've been a bit boring lately and I'm sorry in advance if I still fall short of entertaining.

I had another prenatal appointment this week, this one with the specialists that I saw last pregnancy. It was that office that labeled me high risk with Audrey.

I got to talk to the genetic counselor lady who, among other things, informed me that I'm not likely to have Hemochromatosis unless Mom is a carrier and/or full-blown herself. I'm still taking that with a grain of salt as there seems to be an awful lot that doctors don't understand about the human body and genetics. Still, it was good to know that the odds are in my favor as far as that goes.

We got another ultrasound (I'll scan the pictures when I dig out my scanner which is currently buried under store ads and disposable dishes) and we got to see our little critter stretching and kicking around in there. That was pretty fun. We still haven't heard a heartbeat, but we have SEEN it going like gangbusters.

The really good thing that came out of all this is that my doctor at this office decided that upping my thyroid medication would be a good idea. FINALLY! I've been feeling unreasonably tired and, over this last weekend, was starting to feel depressed. Depression-like symptoms can point at a thyroid unbalance. So, I've been on the increased dose for two days and I'm already starting to feel good enough to sit up for extended periods of time and my thinking has cleared up a little.

My specialist doctor does seem to need a little breaking in, however. Ben and I were being mildly funny during our visit and my doctor might have cracked a smile once... I'm hopeful that we'll have him loosened up by the time I deliver.

I seem to be at the height of my morning sickness though.. without getting too graphic, I'm pretty sure the stomach acid has been making my throat bleed slightly the last couple of days. I'm definitely going to bring that up to my doctor on my next visit as I don't remember that happening with Audrey.

So, I know it's not funny (yet) but at least I'm able to bring some updates to the table. My only friend lately has been the couch in front of the TV. I am enthused to inform you all, though, that I've managed to help Mario collect 5 of the 7 Crystal Stars and am well on my way to saving Princess Peach and the whole world! Go me!

My Nugget

Here is the first glimpse at the newest Thompson. You need to have experience interpreting abstract art in order to see anything. :)

Normalcy would be nice..

Okay, so this isn't going to be a real blog today. Just an update on where I've been.

Morning sickness hit me with a vengeance on Monday. I managed to not throw up on Tuesday, but Wednesday was a bad one too.

Speaking of Wednesday...

Ben got a call at 5:30 informing him that our former roommate, Scott, had been in a motorcycle accident. He was unconscious and they were taking him to the hospital right away. Ben literally ran from his class on campus to the hospital. He actually beat the ambulance.

Needless to say we've all been terribly upset. Ben spent the entire evening at the hospital. The Bishop's wife, Erin, showed up at our door around 7 and firmly told me that she was taking Audrey for the night and giving me a ride to the hospital so I could be with Ben and Scott. So, I spent the latter half of the evening in the hospital too.

Overall, Scott looks okay. Not great.. okay. He could be much worse for having been in a motorcycle accident, so that's a blessing. As of now, we're waiting for his parents to get into town. We're also trying to find a suitable place for them to stay as the hotels are mostly booked for Balloon Fiesta. We've offered our third bedroom and the Bishop has offered his spare room as well. So, we'll be a bit touch and go for a while over here.

I'm still here.. just not as available as I was just a few weeks ago. But, I will try to keep in touch.

Doctors

Dr. Lewis is moving. He's been my doctor for 14 years or so and he's running away to Utah.. just like everyone else. I found this out a day or two before I went to his office to get my pregnancy verified, certified and prescribed.

As usual, he was pleasant and bland. If Dr. Lewis were a color, he'd be frosted glass, like a Christmas Tree ornament. It doesn't glow of it's own accord, but requires a 1 watt bulb to bounce light around on it's surface. He perked up just a little (he must have been REALLY excited) when my pregnancy test came back positive and wondered in his bemused way why I needed to come to his office to check if I was pregnant since I already took a test. I told him (trying hard to not sound irritated) that I needed to check with him that my medication levels were okay for the pregnancy and also needed something from him in writing stating I was pregnant for the medicaid office. His confused little smile made me want to smack him. I didn't ask him about getting blood tests for iron levels or anything because it seemed rather pointless since he was leaving in a few weeks anyway.

So, I am now searching for a new doctor and am in possession of my medical chart so that transferring to that said new doctor will be smooth. I am not excited. I wonder if my OB will take me on as a General patient... probably not.

In looking at my medical record, it was interesting to me that I only go to a doctor if I'm sick, need a refill/bloodwork, or if I'm pregnant. It seemed that my issues pre-marriage were bronchitis, resperatory tract infections and other cold/flu type problems.. my issues post-marriage were migraines and hypothyroidism. Let the jokes insue... I can't think of any right now.

I'm tempted to not worry about getting a regular doctor until after I've delivered but my luck would be getting horribly sick in the middle of January and needing antibiotics.

I'm sorry if this blog has been a bit wander-some... I've been a little scattered in the noggin for the past few weeks.

Rolly-Polly Me

I am bound and determined to have a better pregnancy than last time. I had trouble with weight gain (I gained about 45-50 lbs!), pre-eclampsia (also called toxemia or high-blood pressure), heart palpitations, premature labor and when it was all said and done, Audrey came out with the cord wrapped around her neck 4 times!! Sigh... I figured I could deal with ankles the size and consistancy of water-logged nerf footballs, but my baby being in any kind of danger was a real shock to me.

So, although I am not quite the exercise guru like Melissa and Dara, I have decided to try to be as active as I can. This, of course, is a challenge because I was not too terribly active before getting pregnant. One of the things all the books and websites say, is that starting a strenuous exercise program AFTER getting pregnant isn't very smart. They all say to start slow and work up to something that will get your blood pumping. Even then, for me, a fast walk will get me panting. (Pathetic, I know)

So, my current plan: Try to get out to someplace that requires walking every day. So far we've done Coronado Mall, the new Uptown Shopping Plaza, the irrigation trail from my mother-in-law's to the Flying Star (I got cake as my reward - Birthday present), and ANY shopping trip to Walmart.. you can guarantee to be standing in line for at least 15 minutes. I think just the stress alone of shopping at Walmart should burn a significant amount of calories.

The real problem seems to be my inability to get out of bed before 8:30. I lose a lot of around-the-house busy work before Audrey gets up. I keep planning out what I'm going to do when I get up and maybe I'm just psyching myself out because by the time I wake up, I'm exhausted from promising myself to actually clean.

Cleaning is especially difficult right now because our kitchen is in the process of being re-floored. The old flooring was creating a moisture problem and we found while we were ripping it all up that there were 3 layers of flooring (including the original 55 year old 9x9 ceramic/clay tile). Right now, our floor is concrete with 55-year-old dry adhesive creating sortof an interesting ridged pattern... oh, and it's black. As if I didn't feel my floor was dirty enough.. it HAD to be black. The inspector came earlier today to figure out how to sort out some of the problems the previous owners left for us with their poorly-done patch jobs and he enthusiastically told us that the tile and adhesive used back in the 1950's for these houses was chock full of asbestos. Oh, joy. As if I wasn't paranoid enough. He then went on to tell us that we weren't in any real danger since we weren't trying to inhale our floor. He also said that he's been working around it for years and he was more likely to die from smoking, but his friend died when his lungs shrivled up into little rocks and he suffocated to death. Like that's going to make me feel better. My baby is going to be a mutant.

This is a test.... This is only a test....