Channeling Colonel Sanders

Here are some pics of Max in his homemade seersucker suit. Made by me and fixed by Granny. Darn tailored pants! Granny was a lifesaver! Now he looks like a true Southern gentleman. The other pic is one that Max took of me doing what 95% of my day consists of--feeding and burping Kizzie.

She's here!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday was the big day. To give you a summary of the debut of my little sweetie:

Mom and I were walking around Walmart and I was having pretty regular contractions. Called the doc and he told me to go to the Payson hospital for them to check me out. Payson hospital said that I was dilated just a little bit more and my doctor told me to run down to Phoenix before my water broke.
I made it to Phoenix and they said, sigh, that I was still only 5 centimeters dilated and irregular contractions. Basically, that means that I was still in labor limbo. So, my Phoenix doctor told them to encourage me to go into labor so that I wouldn't have to go back home. Yayyyy!
After being "encouraged", still no dice. I was getting bored and worried. Then came the fateful, "we have decided to give you pitocin" statement. Woweee. When that stuff kicked in, my contractions were REALLY REALLY REALLY hard. Think three minute long contractions that felt like they were going to split me in two. I endured the agony for as long as I could while the Prince William pre-wedding show was on in the background. I finally opted for an epidural, and . . . heaven. God bless anesthesia! I was able to joke around about crazy British hats and take a nap. Then the doctor broke my water! A very very short 45 minutes later, all of the sudden I was dilated to 10 and ready to go! Then thirty minutes of pushing and I got to meet my beautiful daughter. She looks like a delicate version of Max, with dark hair and blue eyes. A little more mellow and a lot less dramatic than my first born, Kizzie is a nice addition to our family. Max was not too impressed when he saw her in the hospital. The "It's a Girl" balloon was much cooler! Hopefully he will adore her as much as we all do. Here are some before and after pics of little Kiz.

Born Friday morning at 7:22
6 lbs. 9 oz.
18 inches long

Twiddling my thumbs

Here are my stats so far:

Number of girlie movies watched 1
Number of quick read mystery novels read 2
Number of times I've been at the hospital 2
Number of babies born 0

Whew! After two false alarms and getting Jack's hopes up, Kizzie's still not here. The good news is that (according to the nurse) when I actually start to "really" go into labor, it will probably progress pretty fast. I personally object to the term "false" labor. It hurts just as bad as real contractions, makes me want to throw up, and gets my hopes up. Good thing I'm not the only mom that comes into labor and delivery and then has to get sent home. The contractions I had yesterday, although not consistent and not moving things along, were hurting pretty bad. My doctor gave me a prescription for Ambien so that I could get a good night's sleep and my body could still do it's thing. I've never taken sleeping pills before. Let's just say that it's a good thing that I waited to take it until I was home, or mom would have had to carry me out of the car. I slept really, really hard. I even probably drooled on myself, but didn't notice it when I woke up. I hope and pray that Kizzie comes soon. I miss my husband and my crazy son.

She's coming . . . no wait, she's not coming.

Wow, talk about DRAMA. On Monday we went from doctor putting me on bed rest to Tuesday going into heavy labor and being airlifted in a helicopter to Phoenix. No, Kizzie's not here yet. Sigh. We were all geared up to be parents again as I was saying goodbye to Jack and Max in Payson and being loaded into the helicopter (crying). I just knew that Jack wasn't going to make it to Phoenix before they gave me a c section. Alas, when they got me to St. Joseph's in Phoenix, my contractions were good and stopped, thanks to the magnesium that they gave me in Payson. Yukky stuff, by the way. But there was good news, not only does St. Joe's have the best NICU unit in the valley, but they can do Vbac (Vaginal birth after C section). So I am just bound and determined now to try Vbac. The doctor kept me on ice (figuratively speaking) at the hospital until today, when I officially hit the 36 weeks mark, which means that Kizzie can be born without "premature" complications. It also means that my insurance wont pay for me to stay at the hospital anymore. So I'm free, so to speak, and hanging out in Phoenix at my aunt's house in Tempe until Kizzie decides to start up a ruckus again. I could go back to Payson now, and have a C section, but three days of listening to babies being born all around me and thinking of the recovery time and avoiding surgery (I am a wuss when it comes to possible pain) makes me really want to give Vbac a go. So my mommy is staying with me here in Phoenix, Max is still hanging out with grandma number two in Sierra Vista, and Jack is returning to Pine to write his school papers and catch up on a week's worth of missed assignments. Doctor says that Kizzie could come any time. She may come tomorrow, or wait a week. We shall see. Meantime I am encouraged to resume normal activities (aka, no more bed rest) and am looking forward to watching a girlie movie with my mom. Jane Eyre awaits!

PS--three days of mindless cable TV has made me realize that I really don't miss it. Mountain backwoods living has made a pioneer woman out of me. Now, quick-read mystery novels are a whole different story altogether . . .

Another Belly Picture

Hello All,

The really weird thing is that when I go to school tomorrow, the kids who haven't seen me in two weeks will notice how much my belly has gotten grander. We're almost six weeks away folks! I really don't have anything else clever to say, so I will go take a really hot shower and go to sleep. Oh yeah, here's another cute picture of Max listening to "Uncle Kia" make a techno version of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly", while I'm trying to brush his teeth. He is such a little DJ in training.

ps--The boo boo on Max's eye is where Bruce bit him for teasing him with food. Don't mess with a fat, middle aged dog.

The offending body part

Here are some pictures of little Kizzie from last week. She's about four pounds and kicking . . . literally. Just in case you can't decipher the ultrasound pics, the first one is her foot, the second one is her face profile. Lately, she's running out of room in there, so I'm feeling a lot of rolls, jabs, kicks, and my favorite, pushing on my ribs until they ache.

Right now we are at 33 weeks. Seven weeks to go. Arghhh. Get this kid out of me! Max kisses his sister and tries to shout at her every day. Good thing she can already hear him, or she would freak out when she comes into the real world. Only three more days of spring break. . . sniff.

Finally . . . preggo pics!

The first picture is what I look like right after school when I look somewhat fresh (ha!) The second picture is what I look like after I rip off my school clothes and get in my comfy clothes. And the face in the second picture shows you how I really feel. Sigh. . .
Sadly, I still have dinner to cook and Max to contend with.