First Ever Load of Pinks

While I have turned the entire load of white laundry pink before believe it or not, that is not the case here.  This is our very first load of "Pinks"!

I've never been a real "girly" girl and I remember rebelling against pink when I was about 11 years old.  Since then, pink and I have a good working relationship.  I've actually come to embrace it as the mom of a little girl.  That said, I wasn't really ready for our first load of pinks!

Favorite New Activity

As an ignorant, single, 20 year old, I once asked a new mom what she did all day.  I didn't mean to be rude (oops), I just wondered what it was that kept parents so busy.  Since getting pregnant, several people have informed us that we'll spend most of our time just staring at the baby.  I guess I've already started, because I stare at my belly constantly, hoping to call Peter over in time to see her kick.  It really is more exciting than it looks!

Little by little, I'm learning that our baby girl has a mind of her own.  I'll kindly prod her to kick, beg her to kick, try and persuade her...nothing happens.  Then when I'm least expecting it...adorable little kicks, elbow stabs, and body rolls! I guess this is just the first of many times that she'll be demonstrating her independence.  I should just get used to it now... :)

The doctor thought our little gal might be small...boy was she wrong!

Our beautiful, chubby girl :)

Sometimes people tell me they can't believe that I'm 35 weeks along...afterall, I'm so small!  What a sweet compliment! At least until our doctor mentioned that I have a small fundal measurement and should have one additional ultrasound to make sure our little gal is growing appropriately and isn't too small! Suddenly, being small wasn't a compliment anymore! (Note: The safest compliment to give a pregnant woman is to just tell her how great she looks. No additional details needed.)

We went in for the ultrasound this morning.  Oddly, I wasn't overly worried as our active little gal is constantly moving around so I thought she was healthy.  Turns out that mom's intuition was right.  Not only is our little girl not small, she's taking after her daddy who was born at over 9 lbs.  Our angel girl is already 6 lbs and in the 68% percentile.  One of the measurements put her at 37 weeks. Yikes!  I guess I won't be needing too many of those bitty newborn clothes. :)

Another morning of contractions means too much time online...

So you may not have known this about me, but I'm practically a doctor! It's true! All I need is this trusty computer and I can diagnose any disease, syndrome, or ailment.  It's really amazing!  If you question my certification...well then you're probably an intelligent, discerning person.

Once I was concerned about my baby brother. He had some symptoms and I was worried.  So I put on my doctor's hat, logged onto my laptop and discovered that my brother clearly had a very serious disease. Peter came home and I shared my diagnosis. He took all the symptoms (just like me) and using his also vast medical experience (and our laptop) concluded that my brother was dying of anthrax poisoning!! Oh no! ;)

This brief interlude as a doctor was a good reminder that I'm not one! Thank goodness!  This morning, I sat down with far too many questions about early delivery and many hours on the computer in front of me and started Googling...after about 10 minutes I found myself starting to embark on completely ridiculous medical diagnosis. Luckily, I got a hold of myself, closed the window, and returned to something much more appropriate...BabiesRUs.com.  Close one!! 

My doctor did recommend the following basic fact websites http://www.americanpregnancy.org/, http://www.safefetus.com/, and the hospital website. I have officially decided to hang up my lab-coat for this pregnancy and instead start trying to use our new SLR camera.

Before Bedrest...

Peter headed out to set the crab pots

Last weekend, before my official bedrest began (has it really only been 4 days!?), Peter and I went crabbing with my parents. If you've never been crabbing, it's a blast! Nothing quite like catching your own dinner and trying to get it out of the crab pot while it's battling you for its life!

What a gorgeous 4th of July it was! Hopefully, we'll be able to make it out again this summer! 

Ready for battle and dinner!

We're pretty much ready if our little girl comes early...

We haven't chosen a name yet.  We haven't installed the carseat or washed any clothes.  We have yet to start, much less finish the nursery.  That said, we have aquired some adorable little shoes!

My first post is a long one...but what a week!

So I'm officially joining the scores of women to embark on the thrilling adventure called Bedrest (maybe mind-numbing is a better description). I thought I'd use this "opportunity" to give blogging a try as a way to share what's going on with friends and family and as a way for me to remember all the crazy adventures of becoming a mom.

I suppose the best place to start is with how I got to where I am today...the couch. Last Friday, Peter and I went to the doctor for a routine check on the babe. Nothing of note really. Regular heart-rate, no contractions, pretty boring to be honest. Then we climbed into the car to take Peter to work. While we were stopped at a light a very friendly, Russian man decided to smash into the back of Peter's car. My first thought was "Fabulous, we'll get that little dent on Peter's bumper replaced!" My second thought was, "Is this a contraction?" I grabbed Peter hand and put it to my belly to show him and make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

(One of the holes in Peter's bumper)

After getting the appropriate info from our new Russian friend, I called the doctor who said to come right back. (About now is when you should start feeling bad for Peter as I'm just a typical, hormonal, starving pregnant wife. I think he handled things pretty well.) So back at the doctors they hooked me up to the Richter Scale. (Also known as the Fetal Monitor). This scale has two sensors one for the baby's heart and one to monitor contractions.

We previously learned how to read the rises and falls of the scale and watch the monitor tape. After just a few minutes it became obvious that this would be a more exciting trip...There was a solid mountain range being drawn by the sensor monitoring my contractions. After about 45 minutes of contractions about 5 mins apart a very nice nurse appeared with a wheelchair...just for me!

I climbed into my new ride and Peter and I headed over to the hospital. When we got there I was "examined" and turns out the babe was all in position (it's comforting to know when the day comes she knows what to do, but THIS was NOT the day). I was again hooked up to the Richtor Scale for about an hour. Since my contractions didn't slow down, I was given a shot of Terbuteral to slow things down. It worked and a mere 3 hours, one gross hospital pizza and about 50 feet of monitoring paper, we were allowed to leave.

Luckily, that night I felt great! The next two days...still fabulous! I called my doctor to try to get out of my Wednesday appointment, but those darn cautious doctors INSISTED that I come in. I clearly explained how I was fine, but they never listen.

So in I went, got hooked back up to the monitor and suddenly my heart dropped...the mountain range of contractions that had appeared last week were reappearing. The nurse showed the doctor and before I knew it, my hospital chariot was waiting for me again. I was doing pretty well until the kind, well-meaning nurse asked if I wanted to have my husband meet me over there and then I kind of lost it. (Luckily, they're trained to deal with this right?) Yes I WOULD like to have him meet me there, but he's in California for work so this adventure would be for just the baby girl and me.

Off I went, back to the hospital. Contractions continuing all the while. When I got there I was monitored, then given one more shot of Tributaline to stop the contractions. After about 2 hours, I was informed that I had an infection and that I needed to take antibiotics and take it easy, but I could go home. I would need to return on Friday.

Friday rolls around, Peter is back (thank goodness), and we head to the doctors praying that I wouldn't be transported to the hospital again. The doctor on call was incredibly patient and understanding. Unfortunately, the contractions hadn't stopped, but he said I didn't need to go back to the hospital. Even though the babe was still in the "ready" position. He said I could take some medication if I wanted or I could go home and continue this bedrest. Also, apparently I didn't have an infection so I could toss those antibiotic that I absolutely hated taking.

So now here we are. Me on the couch, the babe bounding around in my belly, and Peter (who thought me being on bedrest meant he'd have a bunch of downtime) holding down the house entertaining his adoring wife.