Finn- Year the First

My no-good-very-bad-day in a nutshell.

I went in for my 39 week check yesterday morning. The CNM started off by asking me if I was thinking of being induced. Obviously I told her "No way. Absolutely not." She said something along the lines of "We try to wait as long as possible with VBAC moms anyways, before inducing."  Well, duh. So then she checked me and found I was "still only 1 centimeter" (because that means so terribly much) and that I measured a 1/2 centimeter bigger than last week (she's been having a student measure me every week and quite frankly, he doesn't know what he's doing.) After a disapproving look she turned her back to me and said over her shoulder, "Before your next appointment I want you to have an ultrasound. You know, just to check the fluid level, the size of the baby and his position. That sort of thing. Of course you can avoid that by making sure you have this baby by then!"  I was dumbstruck. Ultrasounds performed this far along are incredibly inaccurate at even estimating such things. I know that based on Finn's size at birth if I do agree to the ultrasound that they're going to try and play the CPD ("cephalopelvic disorder", for all you non-birth junkies)  card and insist that this baby is too big for me to give birth to. Which is nonsense. The only way to actually diagnose CPD is to take an x-ray of my pelvis while I'm, get this, in labor.  And no one in their right mind is about to attempt that. Anyways, I get all dressed and stumble to the receptionist to make my next appointment, barely choking back tears. Then she tells me that the CNM has also ordered that if I don't oblige and go into labor by Saturday, that I'm to go to the maternity ward every three days for a non stress test and "to keep going until you're so sick of the NST that you pop that baby out."   This is also ridiculous since they've been having me keep a kick count chart for the past two weeks, and can easily see that he's not stressed out in any way, that he's amazingly active in there. Coupled with the fact that his heart rate is never below 140, I'd say he's the opposite of stressed.  I was handed a stack of papers and an appointment card and once again reminded that I could bypass all this fuss if I would just make sure that I go into labor before the weekend.  Once I managed to calm down and stop the urge to puke I called Amy, who managed to talk me down off my ledge and reiterated everything I already knew, but just needed someone else to say out loud.  So enormously thankful I had her to call.

Oh, wait there's more.

Finn and I managed to have a pretty pleasant day after all that.  Little grocery shopping, little play time, had some lunch together.  But once we got home and Steve ran our rent check over to our landlady, we all got bitch smacked.  She's kicking us out. We have until May 1st to find somewhere else to live. She's "doing us a favor" by extending our lease until then because she feels bad for me and the kids.  Right.  Good-bye garden. Good-bye big yard. Good-bye best neighbors in the world. And possibly good-bye Harley, since finding a rental that allows for pets at all is harder than hell, let alone a dog his size.  

If the universe's plan is to somehow stress this baby out of me, it just might work.

Progress

Call me crazy, but I'm actually excited about experiencing labor. I've been having steadily increasing, but irregular contractions all week and I'm pretty much tickled pink to be going through pre-labor.  I've been reflecting on my experience with Finn and realizing that I never had a single sign of impending labor with him. He never "dropped", there were never any cramps or weird hip looseness.  And even at what was, according to the evil doctor, my 41 week check up I showed no signs of thinning, softening or dilating. Which again makes me think that I was correct about his actual due date being later in February, not the beginning of the month. So you'll understand why I was thrilled at my check up this week to hear Laurie say "Looks like you're softening a bit and thinning out nicely. And you're at one centimeter."   Obviously, Cab isn't going to be tumbling on out of there at one centimeter, but to me it's proof that my body can do this on it's own. It doesn't need to be tricked into it with drugs or a pokey little stick.  If I just relax and let everything go, he'll come on his own terms and he will be healthy and perfect and wonderful.  In the meanwhile I'm going to enjoy these pinchy contractions, sore back and feeling like my hips are popping out of socket because it means my body works and that is pretty damn awesome.

Birthday Bonanza

I had planned on doing a "3-years-in-pictures" kind of post for today, but since our external ate itself and we lost every picture from the time he was born until this past summer, I had to nix it.  We should be getting said hard drive back in the next week, so maybe I'll get motivated then and do a belated photo heavy post.

But, nevertheless, Finn turns 3 today.

Three years ago at this time I was looking in wide eyed horror at the nurse as she informed me that she had just hooked up a bag of pitocin to my IV.   Color me annoyed. 

Today I'm staring in complete loving confusion at a little boy who is stomping around in his jammies and frog wellies singing a made up song all about Mommy.  Clearly things have improved.

 Oh, and underneath those jammies....underwear.  We dove headfirst into potty learning last Monday, with me just hoping he'd get past his love of screaming in terror at the sight of the potty.  And a week later he's had no accidents and even ventured out of the house sans diaper with great success.  Granted he's terrified of going in a regular toilet, and he insists on stripping from the waist down each time, so any bathroom breaks while out and about involve packing his little blue potty in the backpack and an extra 5 minutes for undressing and re-dressing in the bathroom stall.  But it's been well worth the hassle. The idea of doing diaper laundry for a newborn and a toddler was pretty daunting.

We celebrated his birthday on Saturday night with my Dad at our place. Just venison burgers and chips for dinner, followed by dinosaur cupcakes and ice cream. Nothing fancy.  We were supposed to continue the celebration yesterday by going to the Children's Museum with Steve's Dad, my Mom and her boyfriend, but Finn had other plans.  He woke up in a no-good-very-bad kind of mood (and that's the understatement of the year). He threw one continuous tantrum all morning. We managed to battle him down for a nap at 10, figuring if he was up by noon we could still go and have plenty of time to see everything. Then he woke up in an even worse mood than before. We somehow wrangled him into clothing and drove to Butler thinking if we just got him some food he'd be fine. Wrong again. Every tiny thing set him off: the length of his sleeves, his shoes, the fact that he could see his socks when he sat down, the way the seat belt was buckled.  Clearly the museum was not going to happen.  He did settle down for a bit at home, but he went to bed very shortly after bath time (kicking and screaming and half comatose).  Steve and I pretty much collapsed on the couch. I'm fairly certain that I'll enjoy 2nd stage labor more than I enjoyed yesterday.  Today, he's a completely different little man. Sweet, lovey, cuddly. Not a single truck or tractor has been launched at my head.  Go figure.

And after today, Cabbie has my full permission to make his entrance.  All I wanted was to make it past Finn's birthday, so come on kid. Let's go!

I have to make a call today that I've been putting off for two weeks now. It's going to kill me to do it, and I know I'll end up in tears, but I have to call Ellen and tell her that I won't be able to have her attend Cab's birth.  Steve is all up in arms over the cost and refuses to consider a home birth anymore. I hate that money is the deciding factor in whether or not I get to feel safe during labor. I know I'll still have Amy by my side, and that's a huge relief, but as we get closer and closer to March I'm getting more and more anxious about setting foot inside Butler Memorial.  I'm sure it's not helping that my chances of being attended on by the midwife that I actually trust at maternal services have dropped to nil. I'm not sure if she's left the OB's practice entirely or is just not working with MS anymore. I'll be playing roulette with the remaining midwife (who's not awful by any means. I would have just felt more comfortable with the one who ran her own home birthing practice for many years) and the handful of doctors whom I've never met or even laid eyes on. Awesome health care system, Butler County.

Throwing in the towel. Or blanket.

Finn has had trouble sleeping on and off for the past year or so. Getting him the "big boy" bed of his choosing helped for awhile. Heck, he would even tuck himself in and drift off to sleep without so much as a peep. Then, he'd get a cold, or cut a tooth and as with all toddlers his sleep would be disrupted. He'd climb into our bed, or we'd spend the night camped on his floor. Then suddenly he wouldn't go to sleep by himself. He'd have to have one of us sit next to his bed for a few minutes and chat about what we were going to do the next day. But then he'd be okay with us leaving and go to sleep after singing to himself or stroking the life out of his beloved seahorse. Then he progressed to not wanting us to leave at all, which is what we're still doing. One of us sits there for up to an hour while he ever so slowly fidgets to sleep. And sometime over the summer he added horrendous night terrors into the mix. He'll be soundly asleep for an hour or so and then just start screaming. High-pitched, blood curdling screams and sobs that scare the absolute crap out of me and Steve and any other adult that happens to be around. He's completely inconsolable when he has one. He's awake, but not really awake. He has no idea where he's at, who we are, and has no concept of his surroundings. He'll scream for things that he's already holding (his blanket, his baby), shakes like a leaf and works himself up so much that we're always petrified that he's going to pass out. His shortest episode has been about 30 minutes, but generally they last closer to 90. In reading up on night terrors this morning, every article seems to recommend leaving him alone when they happen, as trying to console him can make the episode worse and last longer. But how in the hell do you let a terrified 3-year old sit in the dark by himself, crying so hard that they make themselves sick?  I don't know anyone that would be up to that task.

So, I did a little digging this morning and found a pediatric sleep program at Children's North. It seems like an extreme measure to take, but with at least one episode a week and a toddler that is scared senseless of falling asleep I have no idea what's left to try. We booked the earliest appointment for an initial evaluation, and it's over a month away. I'm hoping they can give us some insight on how to help him because I can't bear seeing his little eyes glazed over in tears every night.

Midwife meet and greet.

Met up with Ellen this morning. I was a little anxious that I wouldn't "click" with her since she was kind of quiet over the phone the first time we chatted. I'm a terribly self-conscious phone person myself, so it was an awkward conversation to say the least. But, she showed up semi-unannounced this morning ( I thought she was calling before she made the drive here) and the fact that she was unfazed by 70 pounds of dog beast hurtling at her full speed won her points right away.  She's much easier to chat with in person, which is a huge relief. I feel like I should have a had a huge list of questions for her, but then again I didn't want to be one of "those" women that have a mile-long list printed off and drill her with no-brainer questions. I did think to ask how long she's been practicing (over 30 years, which is staggering since she certainly doesn't look that old) and how many babies she's delivered (about 850. Holy babies!) In chatting I also found out that she's a mom of 5, including 2 sets of twins, all born at home. The "two sets of twins" thing might make her a candidate for sainthood, as far as I'm concerned. She works a lot with the Amish in the area, which I found super intriguing. I guess she even has a separate house for the Amish women to labor in, in the case that they have a lot of family coming and going at their own homes and want a little privacy. Besides the chatting, everything else was essentially like my appointments at the doctor's office. Except that Finn could run around and be as rambunctious as he wanted. He was super curious and had to investigate the sphygmomanometer (still one of my favorite words of all time) and learned to say "stethoscope".  He loved that when she used the Doppler to hear the baby's heartbeat he was allowed to crawl up next to me on the bed, something that's a big no-no at the doctor's office. And of course he delighted in showing off all his "mad skillz" for her, as he does with anyone new.  He also demonstrated that he has no filter concerning what he should and should not tell people. He regaled her with the story of how he peed in his favorite boots a few weeks ago and that's why he only wears one of them now. Complete with sound effects.  Luckily, she's used to this sort of thing and just laughed her head off.  So, all in all, I'd say it was an excellent visit.  The final decision will happen after Steve and I talk tonight, but I was certainly happy with how things went today.