The Nitty Gritty, part 1

Okay- the events of March 6th & 7th are getting blurry in my mind. I better write down the details of "the big day" before it all congeals into one big happy memory. I'll start from the top.

3/6
-I leave work at 3:30- which is insanely early for me. I usually hang out until 5 or 6 doing random paperwork or answering 1,000 e-mails. But on this day- I just had to leave. One my way out of the building I told Sandi, our secretary, I was going home to curl up in my bathtub. I was feeling a little flu-like and craving BBQ potato chips. Something was awry.

-Instead of going home I head to Ukrop's grocery store and buy 2 huge bags of chips and some real dinner food for Jesse. I eat an entire bag on my 10 minute drive home, which will ultimately be an impulsive decision I will regret in approximately 6 hours.

-from 4:30 to 6 pm, I fold myself into a pretzel on our bed. I don't feel bad, but I certainly don't feel normal. I try to lose my concerns in reruns of "The Gilmore Girls."

-6:15, I think my water breaks. Funny thing, I was laying on Jesse's side of the bed- which is the side that I didn't add the water-proof padding- the padding I purchased to protect our mattress from amniotic fluid. Oops.

-6:16, a tiny bit of fluid- I decide to wait it out.

-6:30, Jesse arrives home, and I am pacing and leaking aroud the house. It is not as gross as it sounds. I tell him I think my water has broken. He makes me call the doctor.

-6:34, Dr. Keller, the same doc we wanted to deliver Miles and even offered her a bride to do so, wants to know if my water broke on purpose so she would get to deliver him. I tell her I was only jumping on the trampoline for exercise, and the cod liver smoothie is a longtime personal favorite. She laughs and tells me to pack my bags. She'll meet us at the hospital.

-6:45, I insist on driving to the hospital so Jesse can eat. However, I switch with Jesse before getting off of our block. I am really getting some Niagara action. In fact, I put the rubber floor mat on my seat to ensure our drive does not become the log flume ride.

-7:15, after being admitted, we learn that a) the water has definitely broken and b) I have only dilated a centimeter.

More details to follow. Miles is making some squeaking noises. Mommy must attend!

Meet Miles!

The Eagle has landed two weeks early. Let's just say what happened last Thursday night was not listed in my daily agenda. My water broke around 6 pm, and we booked to the hospital by 6:30. The grandparents mobilized soon after. Miles Alexander Thomas joined our family on 3/07/08 at 3:07 am. The entire birthing process- from water breaking to actual delivery took about nine hours. I promise to post all the info when I have had more sleep, and it is a good story. Jesse and I are on cloud nine, ten, and eleven! But until then. . .enjoy the picture. There are hundreds of more to follow.

The Real Deal

Last night I think I had my first real contraction. OUCH! I am concerned about my Lamaze training because that was the first skill that flew out of the door. How did I cope with the blazing 15 seconds of pain? By holding my breath and thinking of every expletive I knew. Our Lamaze instructor failed to mention the healing power of vulgarity (very cleansing). Some of those verbal gems are more cathartic than a bran muffin and a cappuccino.

The incident in question took place right after my late afternoon nap. I was wiped out from work because I was given an awesome surprise baby shower. Our little man is going to be the sharpest looking baby on the block. Wait until you see him in his baby-sized Crocs!! But I digress. . .yes, the contraction. . .I had just arisen from my brief slumber and padded my way to the bathroom. As I hit the light switch, this searing sensation- like an errant cattle brand that found its way onto my tummy- stole all of my oxygen. I had no idea what was going on. Had someone slipped our little man a nail file in the cake from the shower? Was he trying to make a break for it by tunneling out of my navel? Was my skin preparing to part down the center to demonstrate mitosis? Yes, all these freaky thoughts, plus a minagerie of 4 & 5 lettered words, raced through my oxygen-depraved brain. Once the contraction subsided, I realized we are in for a real treat. Apparently, I am not easily classically conditioned. However, after the contraction, I was drooling heavily and wanting a dog treat.

I am hoping that when next contraction rolls around I will handle it with more Zen-like elegance. Nature totally kicked Nurture's butt in this first round. This sucker took me by surprise. I wasn't even sure what was happening to my belly. Let's look at the score board:

Lamaze Breathing Method: 0
Anna Freak-out Method: 1

(Being calm and reserved has NEVER been my forte. Just ask John and Kit.)

Now, if my handsome coach had been there to hold my hand, I bet the pain would have been null and void. Let's just pretend this for now and embrace the beauty of magic thinking.

Heartburn Blues

I have heartburn for all of the following reasons:

1. I ate an entire quart of strawberries an hour ago. They tasted like summer!
1 1/2. The strawberries are not sitting well with my system.
2. The baby is hopping up and down- non-stop. He is very hyper this evening.
3. I am very stressed, and this causes my belly to ache.
4. The only comfortable position I can currently find is lying down- which causes more acid reflux.
5. Did I mention I am stressed?

The glories of stress: never-ending requirements from work, the realization that this baby is coming out very soon, my continual attempts to "let things go" are not working, our last Lamaze class is tomorrow and I do not feel classically conditioned yet, I want to eat 400 gallons of ice cream but my pants won't let me, and I just wish that my brain could relax- but I is in overdrive. I know that this is a truly happy and blessed time, but I have some serious anxiety to deal with. I don't want my worries to cloud this experience. I am too bummed out for a Saturday night!

Ticker Revised

I think I've fixed the ticker. 28 days to go- not much at all. I was at a conference today, and between the slide presentations I counted my "faux" contractions. Maybe I was willing the contractions to occur because I wanted to go back to sleep. On the bright side, it was an interesting conference with really great food! Now I can take a nap.

Ignore the Ticker

Sorry folks- but the pregnancy ticker on screen right is not correct. Dr. Keller said I am due on March 20th. Only 4 weeks and 2 days to go! I've been telling everybody that the big day was March 28th. I have scheduled my long-term substitute around this date; I have filed my HR paperwork around this date. Aside from my mild disappointment of having to do more paperwork, I am elated that I going to meet our son sooner than previously expected. Of course, our little man will arrive when he decides to, and if he is like his parents, he will be late. We are always late for every function. Granted, that mean he can only be 30 minutes late, if his lateness is genetically predisposed. I guess he will be here in 4 weeks, 2 days, and half an hour.

Lamaz- Round Two

Okay- The Terrible Thomas Twosome was much better behaved last night; thanks in part to the fear factor of delivery- squatting delivery to be exact! We started the class of giggly as usual. However, our mood took a serious Buddy Holly nosedive when we had to watch a video on the mythic and famous squatting birth technique of Brazil. The film's grainy 1970's footage only added to horror element. Think original _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ meets _Our Bodies, Ourselves_ for coffee at an empty Dunkin Doughnuts. Furthermore, our teacher kept cracking bad hair jokes about the mothers, and they did have HUGE hair. I felt bad for the mothers. Brazil is pretty humid, and they probably didn't have well-developed anti-Frizz technology available in the Rain Forest back then. But poofy hair aside, the film's director made major overuse of the extreme close-up. There were a couple of scenes where I thought Jesse would pass out. In all honesty, I averted my eyes several times as those Brazilian babies shot out of their mommies at Mach 3. This film reminded me of the gory driver's ed films of yore- you know, Blood on the Highway, Highway Dieway, Teens + Tires = Terror, If She had Only Worn her Seatbeat. . ., Red Alsphalt Extravaganza! As the film ended, I was ready to renew my brith control perscription. This film is what ALL parents should show their frsiky teen daughters. I promise that those girls will opt to wear sweat pants and butts a la Ben & Jerry's on prom night!

I found an on-line review of the film I'd like to share with you. "Birth in the Squatting Position The women are upright and their privacy is so protected that after the birth, they are undisturbed as they gaze at their newborn. The experience is theirs and it is us who are left wondering "How have we strayed so far away from birth as it once was?" The 10 minute film from Brazil is so powerful that the images will be imprinted in your memory forever." (http://www.birthworks.org/cat2.html#video) Yes, the last line is especially true...imprinted in your memory forever and ever and ever and ever!

My Marathon Man

Jesse is working himself into a fever pitch getting the nursry ready for our little man. As I sit comfortably at this computer, he is installing cool recessed lighting fixtures in the room. This is going to be one mod baby pad. He also booked this Saturday and Sunday as trimming and painting days, while leaving 7 to 9pm free for Lamaz. (That is a whole other hilarious story!) Typically, I frown up his late night tinkerings, but it looks like Daddy has caught baby fever. Nothing like realizing you will have a new roomate in about 5 weeks to inspire you. The transformation from Dude to Dad has been amazing. I'd like to think I helped with the bonding by encouraging Jesse to talk to the belly. What's amazing is that he will refer to our little man by name, and the little man will wiggle in response. That always blows my mind. Even when Jesse refers to him as "Little Buddy", which he does quite frequently, "Little Buddy" responds playfuly by jamming his head into my bladder or kicking my ribs. It's all fun and games until Mama gets hurt!

As for Lamaz, I don't think we are mature enough for the class. We giggled through the entire two hour course. During the serious partner massage portion, Jesse kept putting his fingers in my nose and ears. Once, I snorted in response. Watching the instructor demonstrate the massage techniques on the fetus doll made us both wheeze. The icing on the cake is that we are only one of 4 other couples. There is absolutely no way we went under the radar, especially when Jesse did his Darth Vadar voice while I was practicing my breathing. I hope we represent our families a better this Sunday, unless I hear that they goofed off during Lamaz, too. An interesting footnote, Lamaz is based on Pavlovian classical conditioning. Our instructor didn't smile when I asked her if I should salivate before or after the bell. However, I am more keen on Lamaz since it will make me a stronger, more Soviet lady than before. This Sunday I plan on marching in to class and announcing, "I am doing this for the Motherland!"

Ikea is super swede!

Here are some of our goodies. Just kidding about the HAL.

Ikea! Youkea! We all Kea for Ikea!

Jesse and I spent 5 hours in the Ikea superstore in Woodbrige, VA. And in this massive thunderdome of exquisitve modern and streamline furiture, we outfitted Miles' entire room. What's even more exciting is that we did this for a fraction of the cost that we originally anticipated. Ikea trumped Babies 'R' Us in two spectacular ways- style and budget. (However, driving to Newport News would have been a bit more relaxing than braving the pseudo-D.C. traffic.) Plus, Ikea has a tasty cafeteria, which we hit up twice during out stint. Jesse noshed on meatballs; I opted for the greek salad. Our second snack break called for cinnamon rolls and cake. We are Ikea converts- our heads have been sprinkled with the sweet Swedish drops of interior enlightenment.