Miniature Golf

Three weeks ago, before the bedrest mandate, we took the kids to play miniature golf for the first time.



Girlie, who sort of understood what was going on, was very excited.
She diligently followed the rules.


Boyo was just excited to be given a weapon - I mean, a golf club.

Ultimately, he decided that walking the ball to the hole and dropping it in was much easier than trying to hit it to the hole.


I do not see professional golf in his future.

I'm not sure what is worse - the boredom or the guilt...

~

Yesterday's doctor's appointments went well - Baby K was moving and grooving, she has gained a whole pound, my blood sugars are above 90, my diet is on track, and my AFI was 7. My doctor was pleased that I had "passed" being on bedrest at home for 5 days but reminded me that we had to remember what got us to this pass, so bedrest continued. Although he did modify it a bit so that I didn't have to lie in bed all the time, but I can't really go out of my house.

I gave him my litany of complaints - my hands and feet keep going numb, I keep seeing spots in my peripheral vision, my blood sugar numbers are high, and my back and sides keep hurting.

My doctor's response? Good. He said that all my complaints told him that I was following his regime of bedrest (hands and feet going numb = blood flow to the placenta, spots in my vision = vertigo from lying down, back and side pain = growing baby, and high blood sugar numbers = a working placenta). So I got no help from that corner.

Bed rest will continue for another week. After that, I'm over 37 weeks, so I'm hoping we can ease up on the rules a bit. It's more than my being bored - I feel horribly guilty.

I feel guilty that throughout May and the beginning of June I promised my kids, "We'll do that when Mommy is done with work." And now we can't.

I feel guilty that their routine has been thrown to hell and they don't get to see their friends often.

I hate and feel guilty that my husband is doing 90% of the childcare and house cleaning when I can't help and that he's not getting the breaks he needs.

I hate and feel guilty that my sister is coming over and cleaning my house and helping my husband set up for the baby instead of doing it myself.

I hate and feel guilty that my friends are feeding my husband and kids when I'm home.

I lie in bed and feel guilty and worried.

I worry about my baby girl, even as I feel her rocking and rolling inside me.

And I'm worried about me - I struggled with postpartum depression after the birth of my son, and I'm afraid that it's going to rear it's ugly head again after Baby K's birth because I'm so bored and guilty and frustrated and worried now.

Added to that, the support system that I had put into play for after the baby is born has been used while I'm on bedrest, and my husband has to go back to work in the middle of August.

Financially speaking, I have to return to work August 1st. Since I work from home, it shouldn't be a problem, but the longer I have to stay on bedrest, the shorter the time seems.

I'm worried I'm going to be on my own after the baby is born, which makes PPD worse, especially since Boyo and Girlie don't start preschool until the middle of September.

I've always been a get up and go, I can take care of everything personality. And now I can't do anything... I hate this.

A Letter to my daughter on her 18th Birthday

My darling daughter,

Oh my Baby Girl. You are an adult now. The mom part of my brain is screaming "Age is just a number," but the woman part of my brain is rationalizing, "She's an adult. You've done it."

I hope I have. I hope your father and I have raised you to be a strong, independent woman.

However, I hope you realize that being strong, intelligent, independent, talented is worthless if you are not kind. I hope that we have taught you to be kind to others and generous to those less fortunate than you. I hope that we have taught you to smile in the face of adversity, and to say please and thank you even when you have to kick some ass.

I hope you are happy. Genuinely, laugh out loud happy with your life. I also hope that you know that you cannot be happy all the time but that you realize happiness is a state of mind you control. And sometimes curling up into a ball and having a good cry can make your happiness even brighter - crying can clean the soul to make you appreciate it more.

I hope you know that you can be both pretty and smart. And so can your friends. I hope you ask questions and are curious. I hope you never want to stop learning. And if a question is asked and you know the answer, don't be afraid to offer the answer.

I hope you put yourself out into the world without fear and reservation.

What advice do I have for you, my darling daughter?

While I do not know if you are heading off to college right now or if you are trying to figure your out life, I do know that whatever you are doing, I hope you are doing something with your life to make a life of value. And if you don't know what that is right now, don't worry, you will. I don't expect you to have a life plan right now. And if you do know what it is, I am sort of expecting that you will change your mind. And that is okay. I want a lifetime of happiness for you, not just short term happiness.

So, as you prepare to go off to college/travel/take a year off, here is some advice to get you through the transition to adulthood.

1. If you're asking yourself if you should have one more drink, the answer is no. I'm not even going to address the fact that you aren't 21 yet - I'm not stupid.

2. Before you take that picture of yourself, put on that outfit, or do that "crazy thing that everyone else is doing" ask yourself - would you want to show or tell your Dad about it? If the answer is no, don't do it.

3. If you haven't worn it in a year, give it away. Except for jewelry and fancy dresses.

4. Count your blessings. At the end of every day, close your eyes and give thanks. Maybe you will give thanks to God, or Mary, or whatever spiritual being you believe in. But give thanks. It will make your dreams that much sweeter.

5. Read the fine print. Your signature means something. Make sure you know what it means and what is required of you.

6. It's okay to say you don't know. I don't expect you to know everything. No one knows everything. Pretending to know everything just makes you an ass. Be human.

7. You only get one body. Love it and take care of it.

8. You don't have to let boys win.

9. It's the scary decisions that really matter.

10. If you do get married some day, marry someone like your father: funny, intelligent, warm, kind, and, most importantly, madly in love with you.

Lastly, my 18 year old, grown up daughter, remember: this is your one life. You will mess up. You will get second chances. But you don't get a "do-over." You were created out of love, but the rest of it - this life - is your journey. Make it a good one that you can be proud of.

I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.

I love you,
Mom

Things I've Overheard Since I've Been on Bedrest....

My son:
"I love you Momma. I miss you Momma."

"I haf a knife, Momma."

"Lookit me Momma! I haf a penis!" (after my son ran into my room wearing a swimming ring and nothing else)

My daughter:
"Where's Baby K? Momma, you went to the hospital! You told me you were going to the hospital to have my baby sister? Momma, did you tell an untruth?"

"Momma, I set the table, so you can just lie in bed!" (and she did - one plate, 3 spoons, and 4 cups of water... for a family of 4 to eat dinner).

"I wanna swim naked too!"

"Lookit Momma, I can spit up in the air!"

My husband:
"Boyo, why did I put you in a white tshirt?"

"If you splash in the tub again, you won't get a bath for a month!!"

"GUYS! Why is the towel in the pool?"

"Did you not hear what the doctor said? Get your a*$ back in bed!!"

Home Sweet Home

~
I'm HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEE! :) :) :)

I'm still on bedrest at home. Which means I can lie in bed on my left side. After an hour, I can flip over onto my right side. I can lie on my couch for a few hours a day, sit in the lounge chair in the yard, and sit up at my computer for 30 minutes 2X a day. I can get up to shower, eat, go to bathroom, and go to the doctor. I will be seeing the doctor 4X a week, but at least I'm HOME!

Being home means I get to lie in bed and watch Tinkerbell with my daughter.

Being home means that I can lie on the couch and race cars down my tummy with my son.

Being home means I can read stories to my kids and give them kisses before bedtime.

Being home means that I can make sure they stick to their routine, eat right, and worry less.

Being home means I can be supervisory eyes on my kiddos while my husband takes care of stuff around the house. (Not that I can do anything if they are bad, but I can yell for him that it's important so he doesn't have to come running at every squeal and shout.)

And how did this wonderful event come to pass?

My AFI this morning was 9! Nine! That's three whole points above six!!

And the doppler test they did showed that the blood was flowing through the umbilical cord without a problem.

My NSTs showed that the baby is moving and healthy.

My blood sugar levels have been above 80 for the past 3 days. They are still spiking pretty high after I eat, but as my doctor put it - "Highs don't concern me as much as lows do. Highs mean you have a fat baby. Lows increase your chance for stillbirth."

I am, however, spilling ketones, which means that I'm not getting enough nutrition in my diet, which means the baby is not getting enough nutrition. The doctor wants to see if that changes after I spend a few days at home and get to eat normal-ish food rather than disgusting hospital food.

And Monday, after spending 4 days home on bed rest, I have to go back in to the office so they can run every test again - NST, U/S, Doppler, blood work, and meet with my OB, endocrinologist, and dietitian.

I'm planning on enjoying the next three days, lying on my left side.

A Letter to my Thirteen Year Old Daughter

Before my children were born, I decided to write a letter to them when I was pregnant, one when they were born, and one every year thereafter on their birthday. Given the concerns over premature labor this week and last, I decided it might be a good idea to write Baby Girl's letter now.

To my darling daughter:

What do I hope for you, my 13 year old daughter?

I hope you are strong enough to define yourself. I hope that your father and I have given you the skills you need to be able to do so as your enter the upcoming, turbulent teenage years. And I hope you realize that it is not only okay for you to change who you are, it is expected! I hope that the changes you make are the ones you want, though, and not the ones your friends want.

I hope you realize that as you enter into this wonderful and confusing aspect of womanhood, you are going to "trip and fall." And I hope you know that, even though it will kill me inside, sometimes I am going to have to let you fall. And I especially hope that your father and I have taught you how to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.

I hope I can see you for who you are, and who you want to be, rather than who I want you to be. And if you think I'm failing in that aspect of motherhood, I hope that we have the type of relationship where you can tell me.

I hope you have beauty. Not outer beauty (that is overrated or can be bought), but the type of beauty that emanates from within, that only those who are truly kind and caring possess.

I hope that when your brother and sister try to push you around, you fight back. (No bloodshed, please.)

I hope that you can smile in the face of difficulties, right before you dig in and finish the job.

I hope you know that even though you are my third child, you are just as special and loved as the first two are.

What do I wish for you, my beautiful 13 year old daughter?

I wish you intelligence - not just the kind that comes from books, but also the type of intelligence that comes from your experiences, if you are brave enough to learn from them.

I wish you fairy tales and happy endings.

I wish you struggles so you learn what is really important.

I wish you tears so you know how to treasure true happiness.

I wish you a love that will make you smile every day.

I wish you only enough goodbyes to make you appreciate your hellos.

I wish you the life you want.

I hope and pray and wish you enough.

I hope you know you can come talk to me about anything.

I love you,
Mom

And we are still waiting...

My U/S this morning showed that my AFI is still 6. And that the placenta is starting to show a lot of calcification which the nurse said means it is "maturing" (i.e, old).

The doctor said that she can't send me home when my AFI is the same number that it was when I was admitted. Added to that, my blood sugars keep falling to 40-50 at night which is really bad for me and the baby. We don't know why that is happening... if it's changes in diet, the placenta failing, fetal growth, or just one more thing that is wrong.

So I'm stuck.... they will run a full U/S on Thursday to "grade my placenta," check my AFI, monitor Baby K's growth and HR.

The good news is that Baby K is moving and has a normal heart rate; the NSTs show that she is doing great and unperturbed by all of this. However, if something goes wrong, it will go downhill fast so that's why they want to keep me here.

Still, I'm depressed since I'm not home with my two little monkeys. And Boyo is terrified of doctors and the machines (wouldn't you be if you were on a ventilator as a baby and have been poked and prodded your young life?), so he cries for me at home but then he cries when he comes to visit because Momma is hooked up to all those scary machines. And Girlie keeps asking when Baby K is going to pop out so Momma can come home. (Although she did realize that the nurses are the keepers of the jello, so she is excited to come visit me now.)

And as someone who has always been a "get up and go" girl, I'm bored out of my mind. I want to go home. I know Baby Girl needs to "cook" a bit longer but I am ready to be done. And I would be lying if I didn't say that I was terrified because all the doctors keep saying "We will discuss induction at 37 weeks."

Yeah, that 10 days from now.

I am not strong enough to be away from my kids like this for 10 more days.

Happy Father's Day, Honey!

"What Makes A Dad

God took the strength of a mountain,
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagle's flight,
The joy of a morning in spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity,
The depth of a family need,
Then God combined these qualities,
When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so, He called it ... "DAD!"

Author Unknown

Bed Rest

~
Here is what you can do on bed rest:
-Watch a bazillion movies/TV shows
-Read three magazines.
-Read four books.
-Sleep.
-Write your daughter's thank you cards.
-Blog.
-Worry.

Here is what you can't do on bedrest:
-Play at the park with your kids.
-Tuck them in at night.
-Hug them when they call you up, crying because "Momma, I need you."
-Give your husband a break.
-Feel useful at all.

This blows.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be scared or frustrated.

~

So, since my adventure yesterday regarding my disappearing amniotic fluid and my three hours in labor and delivery, I went back to the doctor today. The amniotic fluid is still holding at 6.1. My doctor's concern was something that everyone has overlooked up until now - the baby hasn't grown in a week. And she should be growing a half a pound a week.

So at the doctor's today, he told me that sometimes, with gestational diabetics, the concern is not that the baby is too big - it's that the baby stops to grow and is too small, that the placenta will fail. And that there comes a point where it is better to get the baby off the placenta and onto the breast/bottle.

I had been so worried about having a big baby that I had no idea that a complication of gestational diabetes is a chance of the placenta failing.

He doesn't think that he needs to induce me right now. That being said, he wants to monitor me closely - as in, twice a day. Guess where he can do that? Yup, at the hospital.

I'm on bed rest at the ever-lovin' hospital.

When I asked for how long, I was told either two weeks or until the baby comes, whichever one comes first.

Two weeks. In the hospital. On bedrest. When I have a 4 year old and a 2 year old at home.

Freaking out is not a strong enough term.

He did throw me a lifeline - that if my amniotic fluid grows, if the baby grows, they will send me home to be on bedrest there. However, the chances of that happening are probably not great.

Thank God that my husband is off work right now, so I don't have to worry about the kids.

And thank God for my sister and my friends, who are on call in case my husband has to drop everything and run to the hospital so he can help me have a baby.

Thank God for my friends who are feeding my family while I'm gone, who texted/called me to say that they are praying/thinking of me, and who have offered to watch my children. I appreciate all of you soooooooooooo much.

So now I just have to rest, take care of Baby Girl, and hope to God that I don't go out of my mind with boredom.

Boys Versus Girls

~
Boys are simple. For example, here is what my son has in his closet, shoes-wise.


A pair of brown shoes, a pair of black shoes, and a pair of sandals. Done.

Girls, on the other hand, apparently need more choices. For example, Girlie's shoe choices....

Boots, water shoes, slippers, brown mary janes, black mary janes, pink mary janes, light up sandals, a pair of Tinkerbell flip flops, a pair of Ariel flipflops (not pictured. And both pairs are purple... sigh), a pair of princess sneakers and a pair of rainbow sneakers (not pictured). 11 pairs of shoes.

And I'm only responsible for buying her 3 pairs of those.

But I really can't judge too harshly. My husband has 4 pairs of shoes. I have 30.

Hmmmmmm.... I wonder if my husband is going to get a baby for Father's Day?

~
I had my second fetal diagnostic today. The gap in Baby Katie's brain is shrinking - hurrah! And then the nurse asked: "Do you happen to know what the level of your amniotic fluid was at your last ultrasound?"

Being a total controlling freak, I did. "Ten centimeters a week ago. Eight on Monday," I told her.

"You are measuring under five now," she informed me. "Let me go get the doctor."

See, under five is too low. Thankfully, I am at the point in my pregnancy where having a baby right now would not be detrimental to her - hopefully. Baby Girl would be small, and she would probably have to stay in NICU, but on the whole, both Momma and Baby would probably be okay.

The doctor came in and measured my amniotic fluid. She got a 6.1. Then they asked me if my water broke. "I don't know," I honestly said.

"Have you had any back pain?" the doctor asked.

"Of course I have, I'm 35 weeks pregnant."

"Contractions?" she persisted.

"My last non-stress test showed I was having Braxton-hicks."

Apparently, I answered the questions wrong, because I ended up strapped to a machine at the hospital in Labor and Delivery at 3 in the afternoon. The doctor just wanted to "keep an eye on me" to make sure "my membranes weren't leaking."

At that point, several thoughts began to swirl around my stressed out and panicked brain:

1. My kids were with a sitter who was expecting me home at 2:30.
2. My last day of school is tomorrow.
3. I had to create, print, and mail 24 report cards by 5 pm today.
4. The baby clothes are still in storage.
5. The car seat is still in the box.
6. The changing table is still in Boyo's room.
7. I didn't have a hospital bag packed.
8. My mom, who was coming to watch the kiddos when I give birth in 28 days, is in Denver.
9. And I really had to pee.

So, being the anal retentive planner that I am, I flew into full organizational mode. I called my boss and explained the situation. Report cards and last day of school, check.

I called the sitter and my sister. Between the two of them, they watched my kids. Check.

My husband said if we had the baby tonight, he would go home and move furniture, pull down baby clothes (and wash them), and set up the car seat. Check.

I wrote out a detailed list of what I would need for the hospital bag (not the pink shirt, the fuschia one), for my husband. He rolled his eyes. I called my sister and read the list to her - she packed the bag. Check.

It's not 4:30 and the doctor came in with test results. Negative to the water breaking. She did an exam. It all looked good. So now what?

My amniotic fluid levels are still low. I am on bed rest for the time being. I have to go back in for another ultra sound on Friday. The doctor's exact words: "Hopefully we can cook you through the weekend, and you will have another ultra sound on Monday. Try to drink water. Not that drinking water has anything to do with your amniotic fluid level, but we like to tell you to do something so it sounds like we know what we are talking about. Go home and make a dent in your couch. Your husband is in charge. And don't worry."

She just put my husband in charge and she expects me not to worry?

I'm kidding(-ish). I know he can handle it. But my Type A, anal retentive personality won't let anyone other than me be in charge.

So all I can do is wait. And not worry.

I asked how long I would be on bed rest; how long they would wait until they took the baby. The doctor shrugged. "Depends on the test results tomorrow."

Great.

Wordless Wednesday

Why You Shouldn't Go to the Dentist Until You Are Four

~
This past week, I made sure that the kids and I got into the dentist.

I should say, I hate the dentist. Just the thought of going makes me break out into a cold sweat and sitting in that chair makes my toes curl.

But I didn't want to frighten my children, so I pretended that going to the dentist is fun and not akin to picking up dog poo.

I prepped them for this trip by reading the We're Going to the Dentist book about a bazillion times a day, driving them by the dentist's office, and bribing them with balloons.

And my hard work paid off. Sort of.

Girlie did great.

Boyo bit the dentist.

I couldn't get a picture because I was too busy making sure he didn't draw blood.

Happy Fourth Birthday Girlie!!

Happy Birthday to the sweetest,
happiest,
funniest,
lovingest
four year old Girlie I know! I love you, Punkin Pie!

10 Things to Teach Your Daughters

I just finished You're A Good Mom (and Your Kids Aren't So Bad Either): 14 Secrets to Finding Happiness Between Super Mom and Slacker Mom by Jen Singer. I highly recommend it - hilarious, insightful (sometimes a bit too insightful, as I am in the middle of crazy birthday party planning while 34 weeks pregnant), and real.

And I had to share her list for the important things your daughter needs to know in life:

"1. Never get your eyebrows waxed by a woman who draws hers on.
2. Cute shoes can be like St. Bernard puppies: adorable at first, but rather cumbersome later.
3. Never ask a man what he's thinking, because chances are it has to do with bacon double cheeseburgers or Mythbusters -- and not you.
4. The women you read about in history book -- the real role models -- wore underwear in public.
5. You can wear cleats and pumps in the same day, and look great in both.
6. Stove, dishwashers, vacuums, and other such appliances are gender-neutral.
7. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but a cat is nicer to curl up with at night.
8. If someone says, "You throw like a girl!" reply, "Thank you!"
9. The stomach flu is not a diet plan.
10. Try to picture what that tattoo would look like on Grandma's breast before you get one that will last the rest of your life. "

Singer, Jen. You're A Good Mom (and Your Kids Aren't So Bad Either): 14 Secrets to Finding Happiness Between Super Mom and Slacker Mom. Source Books: Illinois, 2008.

Great. Now I can't even watch the news.

~
"Mommy, what is a wiener?" Girlie asked without looking up from her coloring. Boyo was asleep and I was multi-tasking - checking email, folding laundry, and watching CNN which was covering Representative Anthony Weiner's sex scandal.

"Uh, it's a penis," I asked.

Before I could ask where she heard the word (since it's one we don't use in our household), she pointed to the TV.

"So that guy is a penis?"

I have no words.

Toddler Translations

~
1. "I fly Mommy"
- If you are in same room as my son, please grab him before he jumps off the couch/table/bed/window sill. If you are not in the same room as my son, please bust your a#$ to get there so you can catch him.

2. "Nothing!"
- This normally follows my question, "What are you doing?" when it dawns on me that it has been too quiet in the playroom. A nothing response means busting your a@# to get to the playroom to clean up whatever mess they have created.

3. "Not me!"
- The name of my children's invisible friend who has created the mess mentioned in number 2.

4. "OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" (from Boyo)
-You didn't get into the room fast enough when he said he could fly (see Number 1). On another note, "OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" from Girlie means Boyo has just hit/bit/pinched/jumped on his sister.

5. "I didn't do it!"
-Oh, yes you did.

6. "I love you Mommy."
-What did you just do? And where is your brother/sister?

7. "I do it! I do it!"
-Be prepared to add an hour onto your timeline for today, Mom, while I try to dress/feed/clean up after myself.

8. "I want a snuggle."
-If I lie in my bed for another minute, I might fall asleep. So I have figured out the one thing I can say to you that will keep me awake and make you feel like a complete ogre if you say no to me.

9. "I naked Mommy."
- Yes, yes you are. Did you really need to strip down to your skin at the Farmer's Market?

10. "I'm just looking at it!"
-But watch out, because the moment your back is turned, I'm taking the permanent marker to your freshly painted wall.

11. "I'll get it for Brother."
-I really want it for myself, so if I can just get my hands on it....

12. "Uh-oh."
-Take a deep breathe and steel yourself. It's going to be ugly.

Wordless Wednesday