I'm back

I find it slightly awkward that my last post in over 2 months was about grooming, but hey, whatcha gonna do? So much has happened (hello, new human!) and no one wants to read a novel of a blog post, so here's my summed up version:

- I was a bridesmaid in a wedding when I was 37 weeks pregnant. Oh yeah, I was hot, obviously.

- Once I hit 8 1/2 months pregnant, I actually started feeling pretty decent physically, but absolutely so anxious mentally that I could barely stand it. I was having almost nonstop Braxton Hicks during the day, and about 20 times I day, I thought "Is this it? Is this it???" My husband was going nuts and every time I called him at work he thought it was TIME. Every time I called a friend or family member, they answered the phone by asking me if they should meet me at the hospital. This was doing nothing to help my anxiety.

- 40 weeks came...and went.

- It was decided upon that I would be induced at 41 weeks. In the meantime I was eating spicy foods, having more sex than a woman with a belly my size should be having and spending far too much time in Dr. Google's office examining every perceived "symptom". The morning before my induction, I had an hour and a half of acupuncture. No dice.

- The evening before I was to be induced, I was snuggling with my husband and son on the couch, and I put my hand on my belly. I felt my little baby's leg, which was pretty common. I grabbed his leg and expected for him to pull it away from me like normal. He didn't do that. I was able to move his leg up and down my belly. Cue: freaking the fuck out. All of a sudden I realized I hadn't felt him move since the acupuncture. I started to shake my belly, trying to make him move. He didn't. I laid down on my left side and pushed in on my belly, always a sure fire way to get him moving. He didn't. Cue: absolute panic attack, complete with hysterical crying. I grabbed my phone and called my doctor who had given me her personal cell phone for when I went into labor. She told me to go to the hospital right away. We called a neighbor girl to watch our son and were out of the house in less than 5 minutes. The hospital is half an hour away from our house and I felt him move twice on the way, very slightly. Not his usual beating, but enough to make me chill out a little bit.

- The baby was fine - and I never got an explanation for his lack of movement, but all I needed to know was that his heartrate was good. And of course, as soon as the strapped me into all the monitors, he started his usual acrobatic routine. *HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF*

- They kept me overnight since I was scheduled to be induced the next morning anyway. Super short version of labor: Pitocin started at 8:30, mild contractions until about noon, doctor broke my water at 12:30, contractions increasing in insanity until about 2:30, epidural at 2:50, baby born at 3:10. Welcome to the world little one.

- So I post a pic on Twitter shortly after he was born. And so many wonderful people gave me congratulations...and wanted to know his name. Now, this threw me for a loop, although I should have thought about it sooner. I have all these fake names for myself and my husband and my kiddo on the blog. But for some reason, I just couldn't give my newborn son a fake name. So, I went into Twitter silence. And since then all these wonderful and funny and annoying and maddening things have happened and I have really really wanted to share them. But I felt like a tool just leaving all these people asking me the name and never telling.  So, his name? It's Will. And it's perfect. And so is he.

 

Note:  I've decided to nix the fake names....and I went back and changed them throughout the blog to my REAL name.  Scary.