It all started with a dream... and ended with two units of blood.

 
*The following is a full disclosure of Graham's birth. Continue reading at your own risk. ;-)

If you're Facebook Friends with me (or a close enough friend off of Facebook that I mentioned it to you), you might remember a certain dream from when I was 38 weeks pregnant... it involved me peeing the bed. In a dream. ... In my dream, I was peeing the bed. Well, anyways, that's pretty much how my labor with Graham started.

I woke up at about 12:15 am not sure if I was peeing the bed in my dream or if I had woken up and was peeing the bed. I wasn't even sure I was peeing the bed. I wasn't sure if I was having a recurrence of that dream. ... I couldn't tell dream from reality, you know? I had only been asleep a little over an hour, so when I woke up, I stumbled to the bathroom groggy and unsure of what was happening. I soon woke Seth up to reassure myself that the puddle on the bathroom floor was real. I wanted verification that I was really awake. That this was really (finally!) happening. 

I had been pregnant for what felt like 40 years and been anxiously awaiting this new little man for so long (and through so much junk, please see this post) that I had a hard time believing it was really, truly happening. But Seth was up and alert and verifying that it was in fact real and so I immediately hopped in the shower. 

Yes. I got in the shower. My last labor began much the same way--awaking to find that I wasn't actually "peeing" the bed, though it took me awhile to wake up enough to realize what was happening. And last time, I didn't wash my hair before heading to the hospital and I have regretted it for years. Literally. I look back on those first few days with Austin and think mostly of my nasty hair. I'm serious. It was BAD. Plus, labor with Austin was 22.5 hours and so I went a day and a half with no food and regretted that as well. So I vowed that this time, should it happen similarly, I wasn't going to the hospital without a shower and some food.

By the time I finished washing my hair, my leaking water was so much/so fast/so strong that I had to have Seth bring supplies to the shower. I couldn't get out of the shower, the quantity was so much. I'd already made quite a mess all over the floor and I didn't want to make matters worse. (I must note here, that I thankfully hadn't made any mess in the bed.) Anyways, I call my neighbor Sheala, who was on stand-by for just such a situation, and she gets dressed and heads over to finish the night sleeping on our couch so that we could leave Austin asleep in his room. She arrives within a handful of minutes, we finish packing everything into my bag, and we're heading for the car.

All of this has happened within about 20 minutes, and though I woke up with zero contractions (and hadn't gone to bed with any for the first time in weeks), I was having STRONG contractions every 5 minutes at this point. We stopped at a drive-through for food, but in the 5 minutes we had been in the car, I'd become so nauseous that I didn't want anything to do with it and simply set it on the floor in the back of the car. Remarkably, Seth managed to hit like all red lights on the way to the hospital even though we were like 1 of 3 cars out at that time of morning. During the approximately 10-minute drive, the contractions had gotten so strong that I wasn't able to talk during them and was bracing against every bump.

We arrive at the hospital and leave everything in the car but my purse and walk as quickly as we can to the Labor & Delivery floor. I stop at the desk and tell them my water has broken, I'm 40.5 weeks, and etc. They ask me to fill out this tiny form (it was about 1/4 of a piece of paper) and I simply look at Seth like they're asking me to do a marathon. The pain was STRONG and OFTEN. He fills it out for me and we're shown to a room. An interior room. With no windows! Perhaps it's because the last room we'd had was so awesome (and we were in it so long, we oughtta know!), but we were both disappointed and it's not long before Seth is mentioning how much better our last room was. And then we're getting moved! :-) (He wasn't exactly complaining, just mentioning how awesome the last room was. But the squeaky wheel got some grease!) The new room didn't have quite the view as the last one, but it was certainly better than having no view at all!! (And given how long I ended up being in the room, I'm very thankful he said something!)

Then there's the formalities of getting into a gown, peeing in a cup, etc and I'm barely able to comply because now the contractions are 4 minutes apart lasting about a minute each. (This felt incredibly fast to us given that my labor with Austin didn't get that fast until I'd been laboring for well over 14 hours (post-water break) and they'd been giving me doses of pitocin.) Also, the first time the nurse checks me, I was 2-3cm. WOAH! We were elated to be so far along already. At this point it's about 2am and we call Seth's mom so that she can come to the hospital. 

The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I call Anne Marie in Germany, Kim arrives, and I'm having so many contractions and so much nausea and so much shivering that I don't get more than two 3-minute breaks in a several hour span. Here's what it was like: Contraction (big "C"), dry-heaving, contraction (little "c"), shiver (like shivering because you're extremely cold... WI winter cold), and repeat. C, d-h, c, s, and repeat. Over and over again. I would have a big, strong contraction for about a minute, start dry-heaving over a bucket beginning in the middle of it, through the end and continue until the next, smaller contraction took over. And then once that contraction (the littler one) stopped, I started with the shivers. And as soon as the shivering was done, I was back to having another Contraction. There was zero break in the cycle and I was quickly wearing out.

I need to stop and say here that I had the shivers and nausea last time, but had assumed since that time that it was because of the penicillin (which I later realized I am allergic to) or the pitocin doses that they gave me. I did not think that they were simply a part of My Labor. So when I had them this time, I was fully unprepared (mentally) for them. I imagined laboring through the contractions naturally and efficiently and taking breaks as is recommended--I've even heard of people napping while in active labor! There was barely enough strength and time to breathe, let alone nap! It seemed everything we had been taught in our Bradley classes was out the window (again) because my water had broken (again) and I was connected via hep-lock to my antibiotic (again) and thus confined to my bed (again). (Side note: I've read that the statistical chances of your water breaking as a beginning to your labor is like 15%. I'm at 100%. ... Seth says I'm batting a thousand.)

Anyways, a few hours into the process and I'm exhausted. They decide to check me again (they don't like doing that very often once your water has broken) and find that I'm 6-7. I was both happy and sad at that news. The fact that my body was doing this on its own was so exciting (no pitocin this time!), but I didn't know how much longer I could physically stand. If I could have heard some guarantee of another 45 minutes or something, it would have been fine. I could have looked ahead and charged through, but there was no such thing coming at me, and I was fearful of wearing out so much during labor that I'd not have any energy left to push with.

At about 5am, Seth and I agree it's time to ask The Man with the Happy Cart to come to help me out. We tell the nurse we want the epidural, and The Man walks in like 30 seconds later. Literally. And angels started singing, I think. (I think it was the same guy as last time too, because I remember him being very efficient and at the same time wondering where he falls on the Autism spectrum given his awkwardness. Very nice, but very socially awkward. I'm such a "psycho" at heart --and in training-- that I'm laboring and wondering about the epidural man's place on the Autism spectrum! ??) Anyways, I'm told to sit sideways, lean forward, hold still, etc. The pain is so great and shivering so strong, that Seth steps forward to help hold my shoulder and is very quickly rebuffed by The Man. (I asked Seth about that later--how it felt to be rather forcefully removed from your wife when she's shaking, dry-heaving, contracting, and sobbing from the combination of everything. He said it was fine. :-| He said he knew the doctor knew what was best and the emotional side never occurred to him. Those Engineers, I tell you...) I've never been in such agony. I was sobbing this sorta tearless cry, shivering, contracting, getting pinched and prodded, etc. The "little pinch" hurts more this time than I remember it hurting last time, but I'm in so much pain everywhere else that I don't much notice it.

Anyways, soon the medicine is kicking in and my personality comes back. I start talking again for the first time in hours. The difference is so apparent to Seth that he calls me Chatty Cathy before stretching out in the recliner and taking a nap. ! Kim helps keep me company during this time; it was a very wonderful time. I keep the epidural on so that the shaking and dry-heaving stop, but can still feel each and every one of my contractions. They tell you to allow yourself to feel "pressure, but not pain" and well, I allow some pain. Not pain like before, but definitely more than pressure. It's an experience that I wanted to feel. I wanted to know when I was contracting and I wanted to know him coming out (when it was time for that). Kim and Seth alternately watch my contractions on the monitor over the course of the next 3 hours or so and I correctly tell them when the big one and little ones start and stop.

About 8am, Kim and Seth decide to head out and get breakfast at the cafeteria. While on their way out, Seth sees Dr. B in the lobby. He texts me the news, which means to the both of us that he must be the on-call doctor, and I reply "Awesome." Not that I have anything against Dr. B. Not really. He delivered Austin. He was the on-call doctor when I spent an afternoon there the day the truck hit me. I should have been more happy and less sarcastic. But I was hoping for my doctor. I had heard she was on-call that day, and so the disappointment was mostly because it wasn't her, not because it was him. He comes to see me while they are out eating their breakfast and after a quick check declares "She's ready to start pushing!" I was SO elated!!! 

We wait to make any big changes until Seth and Kim get back (I was SO excited to share the news with Seth), and then we move into Push Mode. I push with just the nurse and Seth in the room for about a half hour before they call in Dr. B. About three more pushes (and a removal of the cord from around his neck--what is it with me and water breakings and cords around necks!?), Graham is out. It's at this point that we realize just how scary stuff must have been with Austin's delivery because instead of having like 15 people in the room, including an entire team just for him, there's one person there for Graham and two for me. Plus Seth. AND Dr. B laid Graham on my stomach immediately and I got to watch Seth cut the cord. That was SO cool. I hadn't even realized I'd missed that from Austin's birth, but it was very cool. (Highly suggest that.)

It's after they cut the cord and take Graham over to the warmer to get measured that things start to take a downward turn. Seth is over taking pictures of Graham and calling out all manner of interesting tidbits--his weight, his height, that they got all his toes in the book this time (Austin's missing a toe in the baby book footprint), etc. He then takes a picture of the tv. --We had been "watching" Fox News all morning (it was on, the sound wasn't), and noticed no fewer than 3 stories involving someone named Graham (either the first or last name) come on. It was like total confirmation of us using that name. It was awesome.

Anyways, Dr. B collects the cord blood (which we donate), and I see a needle come out. My immediate reaction is that I'm totally bummed because I had really hoped to avoid stitches this time around. It was the thing I had hoped most for--not requiring stitches. But then he's asking for more "laps"--simple gauze pads to the rest of us. (I can't promise that "laps" is exactly what he's saying, but it's what it sounded like to me.) And then he's asking for another needle. And asking the nurse to call in three other nurses. By name. He asks for three specific nurses. And then more "laps." And I'm getting even more thankful for the decision to get the epidural. Each needle that comes out multiplies my thankfulness a thousand times over!! And each needle prompts me to press the Happy Button.

By this time, they are done with Graham and Seth is pacing the floor with him, waiting for them to be done with me so we can have a minute together, just the three of us. Well, after quite a long time... well over an hour (I think) of working on me, and all manner of gauze and nurses and needles and the like, one nurse says to the others "I think it's time we send dad to the nursery with baby. OK!?" It was clearly code for "Get him out of here. Now." I wink at Seth to reassure him I'm fine and tell him to take a million pictures. That nurse is then using some metal contraption seen only in movies to assist Dr. B. That's when I started to get worried. And he's mumbling to her "See? Each time I get one taken care of, there's another one." ! Not exactly the words you want to hear. But yet, I still wasn't really worried or feeling scared. I did, however, continue to increase the frequency with which I was pressing my Happy Button!

I'm fully awake and alert this whole time, but I'm too scared to interrupt the process and ask any questions until he says they need to order two units of blood for me. (Um, excuse me!?) I tell them I'm A+ and then ask about what's going on requiring me to need blood transfusions. The very sweet, very wonderful nurse (the one holding the metal thing, the one who kicked Seth out, the one who was acting as a surgery aid to Dr. B) tells me that there were a few internal scratches that they are working on getting patched up but that everything is "going to be just fine." She explains that I've lost a good amount of blood and are going to need some new to replace what I've lost.

The next bit is a whirlwind. (I write that, but frankly, the whole 9 hours is a bit of a whirlwind!) At some point, my new blood arrives and they are inserting an iv into my right arm at the elbow (my hep-lock was on my left, down at my wrist), connecting me to a pulse ox on my right forefinger, making sure that the blood pressure cuff on my right arm checks me every 5 minutes, giving me a benedryl capsule, and connecting me to pitocin through the hep-lock (to help with the afterbirth stuff), switching the solution of my epidural to something weaker (and I'm told I'll be connected all night), and putting those inflating/deflating leg cuffs on me to prevent clots. It was a zoo!

And at some point, Dr. B gets to a point of feeling satisfied with the results and the nurses start cleaning up the room. Seth comes back in to check on me and shows me pictures he took on the camera. Kim had left by that point to relieve our neighbor of Austin Duty, but David is still there and comes back to say hi. I'll admit that I was a bit of a non-host for guests that day. Despite feeling quite well generally, I kept passing out. I worked my way toward sitting up (pushing the bed up a couple inches every 15 minutes or so) several times and each time I got anywhere close to upright, I was back to passing out and they were lowering me and doing all manner of things to keep me from losing reality entirely. I begged the nurse for some juice, even a sip, and was finally allowed to sip some apple juice late afternoon. My voice was shot from not having any moisture and in addition to losing so much blood, I hadn't eaten since dinner the day before and simply wanted for some calories.

(Did you know that with each bag of blood you're given, you're also given an entire bag of saline? Did you know that they automatically give you a benedryl when they give you blood? Did you know that if you do receive a blood transfusion that they will also simultaneously draw blood from you to check your "levels" (this seemed so ironic to me--plus I hardly had any veins available!)?)

Later that afternoon, I'm told that because I'm still getting blood and thus need more hands-on care, I won't be heading up to the recovery room until the next day. It's at this point that they agree to take off the pulse ox and have begun to monitor blood pressure every 15 minutes instead of every 5 minutes. I'm still quite immobilized, though, and family is there taking pictures and simply laying Graham on a pillow in front of me because I barely have arms enough to hold him. Attempting to feed him didn't happen for well over 10 hours after his birth. (I kept asking about that.. didn't he need to eat something, didn't I need to hurry up and get him established at the nursing business, etc. But the nurses all told me that he would be good for 12 hours, and if at that point I still wasn't able to attempt nursing, we'd address it. Thankfully, they got me to a point where I could try within that window.)

Once I did try nursing with him, he latched on like a champ! It was like this kid had been doing it for years!! And they continued to bring him to me all night, every three hours, and we did great together. It was nice to finally be able to hold him, finally be able to spend some time just looking at him, finally spend some quality Momma/Graham time. He's been great ever since, too, though we had a small hiccup post-procedure, but that only lasted half a day.

The next morning, they begin unhooking me from all the rest of my contraptions... iv, hep-lock, blood pressure cuff, leg cuffs, epidural, etc. and they take me to my new room. I get there and the first thought I have is how amazingly soft the bed is. It was like a cloud compared to the L&D bed! The day was a bit of a blur... Seth was at work, Kim and Austin came to visit, and I took a nap during the floor's Naptime (a 2-4pm break where no one is allowed to disturb patients). I had wanted to take a shower, but hadn't been up walking around since I got to the hospital and so was told I wasn't allowed to get up and move about without a nurse present. Seth comes after work and we have our Special Meal together (I had steak and he had a crab and shrimp pasta dish). It was a very subdued day and I enjoyed it. Kim had been taking care of Austin all day, so Seth hurried home to relieve her so she could get home to watch the debate and get to bed at a reasonable time herself. 

Dr. B came that next morning to double-check that I was ready to go home, and I surprised myself with how good I felt and that I did simply want to go home. He told me at that point that I had some internal tears, that they are very uncommon (he says he sees them once every three years or so), are unlikely to happen to me again should we try for Number 3, that the stitches wouldn't work--they kept pulling out, so they ended up having to pack the area to stop the bleeding which did finally work. It was nice to finally get a full description of what happened. He then tells me to make an appointment for 4 weeks out so that he can approve me for "intercourse" and I about died. I don't normally blush, but I was full-on red faced! Which struck me as a big odd given how up in my business this man had been, but once he mentions "intercourse" I can't handle it!? (He's old enough to be my father.)

(Seth took Austin to a friend's house mid-morning so he could come get me from the hospital without a toddler in tow. Our friend fed him lunch and then put him down for a nap at her house which meant we had until the mid-afternoon to get home and get slightly settled before the tornado of Austin came whirling through.)

The nurses had told me that the swelling I was experiencing was going to get worse before better, and it wouldn't be for a few days that I would come to fully realize the extent of how bad "worse before better" could be. I mean, my ankles and feet were so swollen from all the fluids that I literally could not bend my ankles. Could not. The two things they told me to do to help the swelling go down were to walk and drink water. This was a bit funny to me given that my discharge papers said I wasn't to walk for at least a week-post release and the fact that my feet were so big that not a single pair of shoes would fit and that they hurt so bad when I did walk on them (they literally felt like they might explode). But I attempted the water as best as I could--I about drank myself silly with water, and was all the more thankful for our working plumbing!

The swelling did finally start to go away, but it wasn't for at least a week. One day it simply started receding like lake waters after a flood. Starting with my feet and working its way up! I don't understand exactly why that is... that the worst of it happens/pools in the feet region, but the feet are the first thing to start shrinking (I still have some swelling in my lower back, for example). It sure is nice to see my ankles again (and wear cute shoes)! I took rubbing alcohol to all of the tape marks on my arms and that made me feel a lot more normal--not looking at tape residue all over the place (Which I simply must remember to do sooner next time!). But I still have a bruise from where the blood transfusion iv was inserted, and I'm writing this 12 days later, so I'm not without any trace of recent childbirth/blood transfusion/etc. I also still have some significant pain, but didn't actually have any external tearing/need for stitches, and can best describe the pain as an internal cramping sensation (but regardless of how it's best described, I'm quite over it at this point).

Looking back at the pictures taken the afternoon of Graham's birth, I look a hot mess. I'm swollen so much I resemble a blimp. My coloring is pale yellow. My arms are full of tubes and needles. But I have clean hair! ;-) The first picture of us as a family of 4 is probably the worst picture of me in history. It's terrible. But none of that really matters now that I have a healthy baby man to hold and love.

Graham has continued to an easy baby, only crying when he's hungry or has a diaper that needs addressing. He still eats like a champ and doesn't spit up. He literally has had spit up like 3 times. I didn't even know it was possible to burp a baby and not have at least a teaspoon of liquid come flying out! Austin has been great with Graham so far and seems to understand that I can't get up to help him when Graham is "getting his milk." The only "problem" we've had with Austin toward Graham is him wanting to hug him too much. He'd hug him nonstop if we'd let him!

And that's the story of Graham's birth... how it started with a dream and ended with two units of blood. I'm so excited to be the mom of two boys and I look forward to lots of fun with my Big, Middle, and Little Mans!

Introducing: Mr. Graham David Spofford

Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Graham David Spofford:

He has so much hair, he actually has side burns!

(I look awful here.)

Austin meeting Graham for the first time.

I have such clean hair here! :-) (See post about Graham's birth.)

Graham doing his Elvis face.

We got the name "Graham" from a list of towns in Georgia. (We also pulled a list of WI towns, since TX has already been covered.) That's where we got the idea originally, but we poured over other lists and spent many a moment contemplating if that was the name we should use. It eventually won us both over, and I'm thrilled we went with it. I love it!

We got his middle name, "David", from Seth's family--it's his dad's name. Now each son has a grandfather's first name as a middle name. We're representing both families and I love that too!

The Week(s) from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks

<Disclaimer: This is a LONG post. It took HOURS to write. And it includes zero pictures.>

At some point mid-summer, our house's foundation decided that it had had enough of the dry, triple-digit weather and sorta gave up on itself. Not that this is uncommon in Texas. Most everyone we know has had some work done on their foundation, new and old houses alike. Our house being built in 1959 was NOT the reason we were having foundation issues, but it DID make our issues slightly more complicated.

Our house was built with what's called a Screed Floor. (That link isn't a great one; it seems the only images available are for heated floors, but you can get the general idea.) The best way I can think of to describe our type of flooring is that it's a 'pier and beam' meets 'slab' foundation. In the 1950s, they didn't yet know how to lay hardwood floors straight onto a concrete slab, so they would first lay a concrete foundation slab, and then build up from that about 6 inches or so with a sub-floor using boards laid on their side (joists in the picture) and lay the hardwoods down on that. So when you walk around in our house, it has the feel of a pier and beam because the floors give a little, creak, etc, but it does have a solid concrete slab just a few inches below your feet. (This is also why every entrance to our house has a fairly large step up, much to Seth's grandmas' dismay.)

So, when the house shifted to out of control proportions this summer (Seth planed the front door and two weeks later it again didn't fit), we began getting opinions and estimates on fixing the situation. (We knew that the previous residents had done some slight foundation work--namely on one corner of our bedroom, but we had been provided with nothing else indicating that any other foundation work had been done in the 50+ years of the home's life. Which, as it turns out, was wholly inaccurate. As we've had foundation work completed over the past two weeks, we've found that lots of work had been. The kid bedrooms were being supported to an extreme height, but other areas didn't have any work done. So, half of the house was too high while half of the house was too low. They took lots of shims out of the too high parts and we're still hoping the house will continue to settle back down farther.) The company that did the work in our bedroom was one of the several we invited out to give us their opinion on the situation. It was this company that finally changed the game for us.

Because of the type of foundation we have, we can't just have 'typical Texas foundation work' done. (This process usually involves putting piers all around the exterior of your house as well as several in each room from the inside down which means they tear up all your flooring.) I mean, we could do that, but given our foundation type, we learned that the interior piers would have little long-term effect because there isn't any load-grade bearing beams under the inside of the house. That is, there is nothing strong enough to put a pier under that would then actually hold up that portion of the house. (This is a bit like having a trussed roof--which we also have--we can tear out every single interior wall if we want because the only walls holding up the roof are the four exterior ones. It's like that, but in the floor. That link is also not a great one, but shows why you could leave only the exterior walls and still have the roof supported.)

We had a handful of companies come out to examine and estimate the problem (including an independent engineer who told us we had a plumbing leak under the front part of the house. We had two plumbing companies come do a test and neither found a leak. --It was too high because of all the shims on the piers beneath those rooms.). Company A quotes us over 30k to come do exterior piers around the entire perimeter as well as nearly 20 interior piers (which, again, means losing basically all of your flooring, so having to replace that as well--$$).  We keep getting similar answers, all very costly, until the previously-mentioned company comes (the one we knew had done work on the house before) and explains our house type to us better than anyone else had before. It was like this guy actually knew what he was talking about, and he literally recommended a different company (than his own) to come help us. Enter: Foam People.

What he tells us is basically what I've mentioned above... that we CAN put a bunch of piers in the inside (and his company would be happy to help us do that), but that the best option for our type of house would be to use exterior piers plus injected foam throughout the interior of the house. He described it as a bit of a bowl.... If we prop up all four exterior walls with piers, the inside of the house may still sag a little still (from age and shifted foundation beneath), and rather than putting little bumps everywhere--by using piers which wouldn't hold much more than what they are literally touching, causing the opposite of little depressions everwhere, and so we should have this foam company come and prop up the inside of our "bowl" with their product and thus using the two together would ensure solid foundation and non-sagging/solid floors.

We contact the Foam People to have them come estimate the situation, and the Foam Guy confirms everything we had just learned and also recommends a few foundation companies they have worked hand-in-hand with. We then have two more (in addition to the 4 or so companies that have already come out for estimates) companies come out and give us their opinion and estimate. From there we select the one with the best timeline, best price, and best impression. (As the person who would be home during all of the work, having people I felt comfortable with was very important to me. And to Seth. That is, zero to little Creep Factor. Or Rude Factor. etc.)

<All of this, by the way, has taken a couple months to coordinate and line up. Overlapping with the truck incident from July 7th, making this triple-digit, pregnant summer even more painful.>

After months of researching our problem, collecting quotes, getting information from different sources, etc, we are scheduled for foundation plus foam, October 1-4. And this, sadly, begins The Week(s) of H-E-Double Hockey Sticks. (Please keep in mind that baby's due date was 10-10-12.)

The Foundation Company shows up first thing on Monday, October 1st and begins their destruction process. For those that have not been a part of foundation work before, they basically dig man-sized holes around the perimeter of your home, every 6 feet, each about 5 feet deep. (Bodies could be buried in the size of these holes!) As you can imagine (or have experienced) this is a LOUD process. And a DIRTY one. They also are putting piers inside the garage and directly in front of all the doors, so it makes getting in and out of the house a tricky one for the pregnant, toddler, or slightly clumsy among us. (And I had two of the three working against me most of the past several months, post-truck incident.) 

The dirt gets tracked in and the noise makes it so that Austin stops napping, I can't concentrate very well (BSF homework goes undone because there's just something about a jackhammer vibrating my brain that makes me unable to concentrate well enough), and Georgia Mae's nerves are shot. She's a typical female--wanting her home to be safe and secure and cozy, and she's also a very typical guard dog. The fact that I didn't want her barking at the men surrounding and intruding on her space was unsettling. She couldn't help but bark, and her nervous pacing and near-constant barking rattled my nerves almost more than the jackhammering all day long! (Plus, did I mention that the toddler stopped napping!?)

I'd describe Monday through Wednesday of that week as Survival Mode. I knew it was short term, I knew peace would come again, there was a big light at the end of the tunnel, etc. I can handle anything, I think, so mostly the process to this point is exhausting and frustrating, but I'm dealing just fine. And then Thursday rolled in. 

I left in the morning to take Austin to school and then went to a NDECPTA meeting which lasted until 11:30. Seth had gotten approval to work a split shift that day (where he goes in at noon and works late into the evening, working with the third shift crew--vs. going in at 6am, like normal, and working with first shift crew). (He does that on occasion, once every couple weeks, so as to keep updated with them/keep them updated with his expectations.) So, he's there all morning working with both the Foundation People (as they have hit the stage in the process of where they are literally lifting the house) as well as working with the Foam People as they work in tandem with the Foundation People. Foundation People lift the exterior walls, Foam People inject foam into the floor. Up a little, filled a little, up a little, filled a little... etc.

So, I come racing home at noon (thinking that my quick errand post-meeting has now made it so that Seth is gonna be late leaving the house--someone needed to be at the house at all times) to find Seth covered in filth, clearly NOT ready to go to work. I enter my house to find it crawling with men. Crawling. I can't use a bathroom because they both have men in them (either Foundation or Foam, it doesn't much matter, really). I can't go change clothes in my bedroom because it too has men in it. All doors are open (exterior and interior) because they are either in and out so frequently that shutting it is pointless, or there's equipment hanging out the door, so it literally can't be shut. And there's dirt everywhere. Dirt, mud, dust, foam film, etc. I literally walk around the house for a brief minute before I sit down on the couch and start bawling.

It was just so overwhelming. My "nest" was not only invaded in every single way possible, but it was now so dirty I could hardly imagine tackling it (have I mentioned that I was 39 weeks at this point? I was just sitting there looking at the dirty boot tracks on my floor. But hormones aside, there was some serious unsettledness going on in my home, and that is hard on me.). Seth tells me that he's decided to take the day off because there's too much going on for him to leave it all for me to manage (plus he wanted to supervise the lifting and filling process), and I was SO THANKFUL. I had hit my first wall, and just having his presence around me is so calming and reassuring, that I knew I would survive the day. After having a good cry, I begin scrubbing the kitchen down. 

<One pattern of mine that has only been clarified through this process is that once I have my emotional outburst--and usually a little help from some ice cream or something slightly stronger in non-pregnant times--I hit Productivity Mode so hard and so strong that people better move it or lose it!>

The Foam People leave about 1:30pm, and the Foundation People begin the process of filling in all the holes. I get Austin from school and he goes right down for his nap. Since the filling-in-of-holes is quieter than the digging-of-holes, he slept for about 3 hours that afternoon, with us having to finally wake him at 5pm. The house, even though I had scrubbed down the kitchen, was no place to eat dinner (the men and noise and dirt all still buzzing about), so we load up about 6pm and run over to El Fenix to eat while the Foundation People continue to fill in holes, clean up their mess, replant our bushes, etc. They finish their process about 7:30 that night, and then later that night, after putting Austin down, Seth and I discover that our toilets won't flush. Awesome. Seth also discovers that the sprinkler system won't turn on all the way. Only half of it is working. Double Awesome. (Enter: post-fixed foundation nightmares. Which, we were expecting some of, but the degree and cost of said nightmares is more than we were prepared for. And "The Weeks" really begins.)

So, it's 10pm on a Thursday night, and we don't have working toilets. (Let me preface the rest of this by saying that we have known since we bought this house that the plumbing might some day stop working. 50 year old cast iron pipes weren't gonna last us forever, and Roto Rooter has come annually to help us maintain the flow we did have. But now we've got zero flow. At 10pm on a Thursday night. With a pregnant woman in the house!) 

The Foundation Company provides a free Leak Test with their services, but it had not yet been scheduled. We call anyways, first thing Friday morning, and practically beg for them to send someone to identify the problem. They do. He puts his camera down and says it's a clog, likely from some foam getting into the system... "Call Roto Rooter" he says. I do that and they come that afternoon (we practically have them on speed dial).

Roto Rooter Man comes and does the snake thing down the pipe, only to find that he can't clear the clog. He then puts his camera down and sees that not only did we have some foam in the pipe (which is now cleared), but the pipe is broken and the pitch (angle) is wrong--it's angled downward going toward the house rather than away. So this means a couple things.... For foam to have gotten in the pipe in the first place means we had a pre-existing break (or at least a good sized crack). As for the angle and now-severed pipe, those are probably related to the lifting of the house so many inches (We lifted one corner of our bedroom nearly 2 inches! How we have lived in such a crooked house and not noticed it as that severe is incomprehensible to me. I mean, we knew we had door issues, but never noticed we were basically living in a fun house from the fair!? How is this possible!? Anyways, I digress...) Roto Man says that based on what he's able to see, he thinks the situation could be fixed for $13,500. I was already sitting down and yet STILL almost fainted. This was at 6pm on Friday.

Backing up a bit... Seth contacted the Foundation Company first thing Friday to notify them of both the non-working toilets (and non-draining showers/sinks) as well as the broken sprinkler system, and they sent out one of their crews to try to find the sprinkler issue. So a crew of Foundation People are here basically re-digging up all their holes, trying to find the source of why the sprinklers aren't working correctly. Picture this: dirt and holes everywhere again. They can't find it. This is relayed to Foundation Company Dude (the head guy, the guy that Seth has been working most closely with, the guy who was here until 7:30 Thursday night making sure his team cleaned up properly), and he sends over a Sprinkler Company to fully diagnose the problem. 

Sprinkler Company Kid (I feel so old classifying him this way, but he's probably barely of drinking age! It does not mean he wasn't super thorough or polite or whatnot... I'm simply giving you an image of his youth) comes out Friday afternoon and does his own digging and notifies me at about 5pm that all the problems are "pre-existing," involve wiring, but can be fixed for about $300. I tell him to plan on coming back Monday to take care of it, because though Seth is pretty adept at replacing sprinkler heads and whatnot at this point, I am fairly certain neither of us knew the extent of the wiring involved in a sprinkler system--I had no idea all that was buried right there in my front yard! (there are tons and tons of wires buried beneath my yard... Crazy.), and what's another $300 when you're already spending as much as we are!? "Let's just get it working and done with," I think "One less thing on our plates." (As we are due to add a baby to the family any minute!)

The house and yard have been crawling with men for five days now and I was just so ready for the weekend (read: Seth being home to help with everything) I could barely contain myself. I was weepy and angry and rude. We order pizza delivery for dinner (I had left the front door open because Roto Man was in and out, so when the Pizza Man knocked I was just called out "WHAT!?" from the couch (cannot see the front door from the couch) to which he responded "Um, I'm just here to deliver your pizza..." I felt so bad, but was exhausted and simply fully spent both emotionally and mentally.). Seth gets home and we begin preparing for the weekend. The house had not been picked up or cleaned all week (there was zero point) and so after we put Austin to bed, we worked until nearly 11pm cleaning up. Seth had to put everything back into the garage (they put about 5 piers around the perimeter of the garage, including the inside), move the porch furniture back onto the porch (they did about 3 on the porch), I put together my new double stroller (and broke down the pounds of cardboard it came in so that it could fit into the recycling bin), I priced the remainder of my items for the sale the next morning, etc.

I had a yard sale (with my neighbor) Saturday morning as a part of our neighborhood's semiannual Weekend of Sales and made nearly $300! :-) The only negative about the morning was that it was cold and windy. (Oh, and that since we still didn't have working toilets, I had to keep going next door to use theirs. Which was really quite fine since she and I were sitting together all morning anyways.) While I was selling stuff, Seth and Austin took a trip to the zoo! 

Oh, and amidst the chaos on Thursday, I was texting with a friend and I bemoaned the fact that I hadn't thought ahead to have my on-call cleaning lady (we've used her just a handful of times, on an on-call basis or Event-Based Basis really, mostly since the Truck Incident because my pain level had been so high that I could not keep up with house work) scheduled for the weekend. It simply hadn't occurred to me that so much mess would be involved, and there I was, surrounded by filth! Filth that I had no strength to even consider scrubbing, let alone literally scrub. --It was dirt and dust everywhere, so everything from ceiling fans to floors needed a literal scrubbing.-- Anyways... Heather recommends that I contact my lady to at least ask if she has last-minute availability. I am SO glad I offhandedly mentioned it to her because it hadn't even crossed my mind as a possibility to contact my lady. But when I did, she had room to come Saturday morning!! I'm making money selling my stuff, my mans are at the zoo, and my house is getting cleaned. We all had a great morning!! (A great, but chilly morning.)

<Please remember, at this point in the story, it is now Saturday afternoon and we have been without working toilets or showers since Thursday night. Thank God for awesome neighbors!!!>

Another Plumbing Company (if you're keeping track, that's three in two days) comes out Saturday afternoon. I had been under the (incorrect) impression that they would not only come to start working on the problem, but that they would get us at least a working toilet by the end of their visit. They came prepared to replace our water heater. ! There was some sort of miscommunication between Seth, the office, and the work crew. Who knows what happened, but their arrival was useless. They did, however, quote us $1200 to diagnose the problem. DIAGNOSE!?!?! I had already seen the broken pipe via Roto Man's camera, so there was NOT going to be a shelling out of money to a company that came prepared to help us with something we didn't need help with. They left shortly after they arrived.

It was after they left (and it sunk into me that I was going to go without plumbing for the remainder of the weekend) that I hit my second wall of the week. I collapsed on the couch in a pile of tears. A PILE. I cried myself nearly sick. And then I had a bowl of ice cream. I laid on the couch thawing from the cold morning and recovering from such a hard cry that I was basically catatonic for 2 hours. And then we watched a sweet daughter of some friends (sorry I was so personality-less, y'all!), and then we headed next door to shower. All three of us. Our neighbors gave us a key and weren't home, so we piled into their master shower space/guest room like it was a hotel. There were three showerings, dryings, dressings, etc. It was actually kind of fun and I think we were actually laughing at different points in the process. By the time we got all of that done, it was time for Austin to go to bed, and Seth and I collapsed on the couch. And then after about 20 minutes, my Productivity Mode set in. We both put out plumber information requests via Facebook, I texted a couple people, and within just a few minutes, we had a list of about 6 companies. 

Seth began calling immediately. Yes, it was Saturday evening at 9pm, but we (read: I) needed (NEEDED) to get this ball rolling, even if it meant leaving lots of messages. (Surprisingly, though, several people actually answered the phone!) Anyways, the plan was to call each of the recommendations and tell them the state of affairs (at least one broken pipe, no toilets or showers will drain, might be more issues, probably gonna have to tunnel under the house, there is a 39-week pregnant lady in the house, etc) and have the first three companies available come to quote us a fix price invited out. We figured that a real plumbing company (vs. Roto Rooter) could do the job more reliably (thoroughly) and with a better (lower) price. The company that had the best timeline (that is, fastest) and best price combined with the people who we felt most comfortable with (same as above, I need to feel zero Creep Factor), would win the job. 

That night at about 10pm, my in-laws show up at our house with a camping toilet. The kind you would put in an RV or boat or something... I guess it was eating at them that they were basically powerless in this whole crummy situation, and just decided that providing that was a tangible way to help. I was unsure of it at first and couldn't imagine using it, but I did end up having the need several times over the last week and it has been a God Send. Amazing. (And the Spofford family now has one, so if anyone should find themselves in a similar situation, it's yours to borrow!) We kept refusing to go move in with them for a few days, so this was the next best option, I guess. (I am not sleeping well on my amazingly-awesome mattress, we have a dog and a toddler, etc, so going to stay in temporary quarters was completely off limits in my book, even if that meant not having plumbing. You may have made a different choice, and that's fine. But as a friend pointed out, it wasn't No Plumbing vs. The Ritz.) 

I had had plans of taking my non-sold books to Half Price Books and the non-sold kid stuff to Kid to Kid, and then dropping any remainder to CCA, but Seth made it quite clear that "now is not the time" to be adding things to our plate and so I sent it all with Kim and David (who live right by a CCA) with the request to just get rid of it all so I didn't have to think about it ever again. So not only did they show up and leave the toilet, they left with a carload of stuff to donate for us. One less thing on our plates plus a toilet facility. :-)

<I was emailing my BFF over the weekend about our situation and got to thinking about how I would feel if she or Austin or someone else I care about were in our nightmare situation and started crying. It's like it's one thing for me to go through it--I can trudge ahead like I'm in a blizzard, head down, one foot after the other and be ok. I can manage. --Occasional Sob Fests aside. But to think that someone else was having all this happen and I had to just stand by and watch? It was unthinkable. So as much as I was humbled and unbelievably overwhelmed by the gift of the toilet--and them taking my stuff to CCA--, I came to fully understand why they just made that call for us. And I came to REALLY appreciate the toilet as time went on. ... Keep Reading.>

At some point in the middle of the night, we wake to Austin scream-crying. Seth goes running to find that he's thrown up and is throwing up. Awesome. Perfect. Fabulous. We stay up with him, trying to teach him to throw up into a pail, changing his clothes, Resolve-ing the carpet and starting some laundry for a couple hours before we crash into bed again.

Sunday. Was. Awesome. Late Saturday night, before crashing into bed, I declared Sunday a holiday (I AM the Chief Operations Officer around here, you know. ;-). Which means we eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast, we skip church, we hang out as a family, etc. Quality Time Together. It didn't mean we didn't have stuff to get done... Seth mowed the lawn, got a haircut, got a flu shot, got groceries, etc. I got my toes done, cooked two pots of chili (some to eat that day, some to freeze), did laundry (at some point we had realized that only the bedroom end of the house was without plumbing... the laundry and kitchen areas were unaffected.). Pumpkin Spice burned all day and football was constantly on tv. It was a day from my dreams. And THANK GOD for it, because it all went crazy again first thing the next day.

First thing Monday morning, Plumbing Company D (yes, that's the fourth in less than a week) shows up with two trucks, a man to each truck. (I'm not even sure we were fully expecting them, but regardless, they were here. And they were here to help me having plumbing again.) They get out all manner of equipment--snakes, cameras, etc and go all over the house (including the roof) to diagnose the problem. They did not, I must add, show up and simply tell me how much it was going to cost for them to do so, they just got right to work. ("God Bless them" I'm thinking.)

Meanwhile, Sprinkler Kid and Pal show up to work on the sprinkler system (one truck, two men). After having recovered from the shock of the last week, it had occurred to both Seth and I that it seemed a little impossible that the sprinkler problems were all "pre-existing." The system worked Sunday. We had foundation work done Monday-Thursday, and Thursday evening after they left, it wasn't working. ? I ask him about this, telling him I'm not trying to question his professional opinion, but simply don't understand how that's possible. He agrees and decides to take another look at everything. And he has a pal with him (who was probably 25 at the oldest) this time, so that guy says he'll take a look too. Within an hour, they've found that the Foundation Men severed a wire and that that cuts down our cost (because the foundation company will cover their faults), and I tell them to move forward on the agreed upon other stuff. They do.

All the while the Plumbing Men are doing all manner of things--cameras, snakes, calling Seth to ask questions, etc. The Schwans Man shows up and I dismiss him quite abruptly as "Now is not a good time." and he simply hands me the catalog and a smile. (one man, one truck) The Plumbing Men determine that it is a severe issue, it requires a tunnel under the house and they quote a price less than half of the Roto Man price. The Plumbing Man tells Seth the price and that they can get started that afternoon on the project and will be completed by Wednesday evening and there wasn't a second of hesitation before Seth's agreeing (and I'm hearing angels singing).

The Tunnelers show up that afternoon as expected (one truck, about five men) and get to work. They begin digging from the wall outside our bathroom, working their way in, toward our bathroom and the guest bathroom (they are back-to-back bathrooms). But because the digging and talking and etc is primarily under the house, it's muffled quite well. It's like white noise. Which means that both Austin and I get to take a nap that afternoon. Hooray for naps! 

That is, we get to nap after the Pest Man comes and does his thing (just our routine, quarterly service) (one truck, one man). I asked him about putting a trap in the attic because over the weekend we had heard "someone" walking around up there. He says that he doesn't have any traps with him, but will have another guy give me a call to schedule coming Tuesday sometime. (The other Pest guy calls and we plan for Tuesday afternoon between 1 and 2pm.)

Sprinkler Kid and Pal finish up their stuff and say that they'd like to come back the following day to finish up some other stuff they found wrong in the backyard (which they couldn't find until the front stuff and wiring had been fixed). Fine by me! The Tunnelers tunnel all day and plan to come back the following day, first thing. That afternoon, the Foundation Company sends their independent engineer guy over to survey the house again, a post-work survey.

<So, that's a total of 7 trucks and about 15 men over the course of one day. ! And we still don't have full plumbing, but have been given the Go Ahead to shower quickly "just get in and get out" and to flush liquids.>

I have strong contractions all evening, averaging about 7-9 minutes apart. I fall asleep and wake up with no contractions. 

Tuesday morning, The Tunnelers are back, digging beneath the house again. But, like I said before, it wasn't really bothersome because it was like white noise. PLUS, no one is inside my house. Georgia is still a nervous wreck just having them outside, but I cage her as to not disrupt my nerves any further. Once Austin goes down for his nap, I lay down and nap too, taking advantage of the quiet before the impending storm (baby's due date was Wednesday, 10-10-12). (one truck, 4 men)

Sprinkler Kid is back first thing Tuesday as well and finishes the job. He's the best of all the men we've had around. I heart the Sprinkler Kid. Just thinking of him makes me smile. (I think it's something about how he wasn't inside my house--just inside the garage, and took care of what he needed to with very little disruption to me and with minimal cost, tons of customer service and smiles, and is back out of my life again after making our lives easier. --It wasn't tons of money and more complications before finishing the job. (one truck, one man)

I wake up at like 3pm realizing that the Pest (aka rodent) Guy never showed. I call the office to find out what the deal is and she tells me that he said he'd be out Wednesday afternoon. I'm indignant and a little furious, but simply respond with "Well, on MONDAY he said TOMORROW between 1 and 2. That means TUESDAY. But WEDNESDAY is fine." (I mean, who tells the customer that THEY are in the wrong!? She could have simply said "Oops, we had put you down for tomorrow afternoon. Sorry about that. Will Wednesday work with your schedule?" There is NO need to claim I am in the wrong here. It's like starting a Blame Game rather than Fix the Situation Game. Such a waste of time and energy. And at this point in the saga, I need results, people, not pointing fingers.)

At the end of the day Tuesday, they find out that they won't actually be done tunneling on Tuesday like they expected they would be because of some snafu (which I still don't even care to know the details of), which means they have to come back Wednesday and continue tunnel work which then means the plumbing won't be restored until Thursday afternoon. (sigh) We learn this at about 11pm as that's the first chance Seth has to check his voicemail. I hit my third wall. I pretty much cried myself to sleep amidst counting contractions. The contractions averaged 6-8 minutes apart. 

Wednesday morning I had a doctor appointment, so Kim comes to stay with Austin (and give him a haircut while she's here). I go to the appointment, my 40-week appointment thinking that I had an induction scheduled for Thursday morning, and that this Wednesday appointment would simply indicate whether I was spending Wednesday evening in the hospital or at home. I get there and find out that MY INDUCTION WAS CANCELLED and no one bothered to notify me. ! My doctor has me make an appointment for the 17th. A regular doctor appointment. When I had been under the impression I wouldn't go past the 11th. I was so stunned at this revelation that I had basically zero reaction until I got to my car. And started bawling. Enter: Fourth wall. 

I had a few errands I wanted to run before returning home (including mailing a special treat to Germany amidst tons of confusing customs forms and misinformation) so I drove around crying, entering businesses with tears rolling down my face and caring very little because I just couldn't help it. I figured the belly would excuse any perceived strange behavior. I get home, Kim takes one look at me asks what's wrong and I lost it further. ... The shaking kind of sobbing. I call Seth and stammer out what's happened and try to assess the tunneling/plumbing situation as the tunnelers were not yet there and it was 10am. (It felt like running a marathon --not that I have run one, I'm just imagining here-- and getting to the finish line just to have them tell you it's moved ahead to some unknown point up ahead. I had been ready to be unpregnant and in the hospital (with working plumbing), ready to check out of the craziness at my house and now I find that that's not possible. And the tunnelers are supposed to finish today so plumbing people can come and they haven't even showed up yet!? Where are they!?! I want my plumbing back!)

Thankfully, Kim stays until lunch to help feed Austin and help put him down for his nap. I lay down during this time, resting and contracting. And now I'm spotting.

That afternoon, some sweet friends of ours, who knew basically nothing of what we were going through, brought us a meal. I wouldn't come to the door (I was so worn out from having contractions et al. plus the craziness plus crying so hard that I just couldn't. I couldn't face people.) so they left it on the porch. I started crying again when I went to get it, because they hadn't said they were bringing a meal, just that there was a surprise waiting on the porch. My friend has a bit of a sweet tooth as do I, so I was imagining she was dropping off a bag of chocolates or something. But an entire meal awaited me! (That roast and potatoes was probably the best I have EVER had. SO good!) She also brought me my BSF homework because I missed BSF that morning because of the doctor appointment.

Seth comes home from work and we eat our "home cooked" meal. He says he's been achy and nauseous all day, and I'm simply exhausted, so after dinner we lay around Austin's room watching him play and then put him to bed early. (Thank God he's at the age where he doesn't know any better!) And then we're putting ourselves to bed at like 8:30pm, with Seth taking some anti-nausea medicine and both of us praying that he doesn't get super sick in the night. We have no plumbing. Stomach bugs are not ok when there is no plumbing! (Austin had already gotten some sort of stomach issue, but his are easily dealt with sans toilets. I don't think the same would have been true for Seth.) I'm up in the night because of contractions (5-6 minutes apart), but having gone to bed so early means I did get actually a few hours of good sleep. 

Thursday is plumbing day. I take Austin to school and run a bunch of errands. I had thought I'd be in the hospital, so I take this extra time to get my car washed, make a trip to Costco, etc. It was like being handed a bunch of extra pre-baby time and it was very much appreciated. After picking Austin up and taking him home, I put him down for his nap. I had thought that all the plumbing stuff would occur under the house or outside, but it turns out that they needed to be inside too, and the noise level ensured that neither Austin nor I took a nap that afternoon. (I did, however, lay in bed trying to rest whilst wetting the pillow with tears for over an hour. It wasn't a hard cry, just the kind where tears are escaping your eyeballs without your consent.) By the end of the day Thursday, it becomes clear that the plumbing would not be finished as they had thought and that they will come back Friday to finish. My. Goodness. ... Just. Finish. Already.

Just as they are about to leave, the Plumber Man flushes our toilet one more time to prove that it is working just fine, and it overflows all over the place. ! I run to grab some junk towels just as another guy runs in from outside to say that it's just overflowed running to the street too. After handing the towels off, I text Seth "Get Here." He calls immediately to say that he's about 5 minutes away, making his way as fast as possible. Meanwhile, I've got Mr. Grouchypants (remember all that non-napping that's been occuring? Well, it caught up with him.) set up watching "mElmo" on the tv, alleviating at least a bit of the craziness/stress. But now it's Thursday afternoon and we still don't have plumbing. ! As soon as Seth pulls up, I run next door to use their bathroom, leaving Austin on the couch fully consumed in Sesame Street. 

Plumber Man assures us they will stay until the toilets are usable, but that the finale won't be until tomorrow. sigh. About this time, some pizza arrives, ordered by some friends of ours who knew we were in a serious state of affairs, so once the mess and plumbing situation calms, we sit down to eat the best GF pizza I have ever had. Picasso's... YUM. 

Plumber Man had also told us that they found, in taking off the toilets, that our master toilet wasn't secured with anything, and offers to throw in fixing it. Which prompts me to push for a brand new toilet (something I've wanted anyways), so we head to Home Depot after dinner to make the purchase. Yay for brand new toilet!

I wake up at 3am with strong contractions again. By 6am they are less than 5 minutes apart, all lasting about a minute and I tell Seth that I think today might be the day. Finally. He decides to stay home from work and we go for a walk, I drink raspberry tea, etc. I take a Shower of Epic Proportions. It was a shower to catch up on all the missed time from the prior week. It was SO awesome. (They had gotten the plumbing flowing, but weren't finished with replacing all of the pipes beneath the house, and I showered just before they arrived meaning all water usage would be off limits.) The contractions last pretty much all day (a minute in length, 5 minutes apart), but never get to the pain level of not being able to talk through them, so at about 3pm, we call my nurse line to ask about it. She suggests coming in to "get checked" given that I've been having contractions for 5 days, it's my second pregnancy, it's a Friday afternoon, and everyone's pain level is different. I'm nervous and excited. I get there and get checked to find I'm "only a 1" and am told that what I'm experiencing is "not active labor" despite the fact that contractions are strong and consistent and close. (My water broke with Austin, preventing me from knowing what it's like for labor to begin any other, non-medicated way.) Enter: Fifth wall. 

I have been in pain off and on for a week. And in significant pain all day. I'd been spotting for several days. Plus I've been doing everything I can to help labor along and I'm ONLY A 1!?!? I sobbed so hard at the news that the nurse (not my nurse, another one whom I'd never met) hugged me until I could stop shaking. (Plus, everyone on our 'on call' list was on high alert that day and just waiting for this baby to join us. It felt like I was failing them. And myself. And failing the baby. --Like he's going through all that contracting for no good reason. I want to hug him and say "Momma's sorry.") The positive thing from this visit is that the on call doctor showed some slight outrage that my induction appointment was cancelled without my knowledge and without any explanation. She promised to find out the reason before I left the office and also said she felt 90% certain she'd see me back over the weekend given how much pre-labor stuff I was having, that this is my second, etc. And I continued having contractions every 5 minutes until late Friday night.

After we left the hospital, we swung home to check on the plumbing status (still not finished but they weren't gonna leave until they were done) pack a bag for Austin and took ourselves up to The Colony. We bought some Angelina's, rented a Redbox movie along the way, and just hung out. We put Austin to bed there as Kim and David had agreed to watch him for us. Not having him around would be one less thing if in fact my contractions really started to amount to something. Well, by about 10pm, we finally headed for home, and I think the contractions stopped somewhere during the drive home because I slept all night long. (I texted a friend who recently had a long, painful pre-labor herself, and her soothing words felt just about as good as one of her famous hugs do. Perhaps that and the working plumbing calmed me down to the point of pain cessation. I don't know, but as of this writing (Saturday afternoon), I've had about 2 contractions all day.)

Mid- to late-morning, Kim and David bring Austin down and the foundation guys come to put a couple of piers under the bathrooms, where the tunnel has been dug. Even though piers everywhere isn't a great idea, the bathroom section of the house is the heaviest, and since the tunnel already exists, we can add a few more for very minimal extra cost. So we do. They were here and gone within a 3 hour window, and it only involved one truck and three men. Only one of whom came inside at all.

And I don't mind being pregnant still so long as I'm not in pain every 5 minutes for days on end. And I have working plumbing. And I don't have a house full of men or a street/driveway clogged with trucks (I feel like I need to go around apologizing to all my neighbors for the extreme amount of trucks clogging up the street in the last two weeks. It's almost been comical how many trucks there have been!) And Georgia can relax and stop her pacing. (And her misbehavior. It's like she can't stop being naughty--getting on the couch, etc--when she's all pent up nerves like that.) And. And. And. I mean, I am ANXIOUS to not be pregnant any longer and to meet my new little man, but this is manageable. Seth is home, there's college football on tv, my house is back to being my own (and I have all manner of privacy back with a new, WORKING toilet, the use of my shower, and just my family inside the house), etc.

The tunnelers are supposed to be back Monday to fill in the hole. And after that point, all of the work should be done. Foundation fixed. Sprinklers working (better than they have since we moved in, I might add). Plumbing flowing. etc. And the on call doctor had me make an appointment for Monday morning at 8:30 with my doctor, but I don't recall much of what that is for. My guess is induction at that point, but I was so hazy and teary I couldn't listen to details. In any case, Seth has already emailed his boss notifying him of the appointment and that he probably won't be coming in that day. So the only thing stretching before me is a weekend holed up at home with my two wonderful mans, some pumpkin spice, long, hot showers, football, and relaxing, just waiting for my new little man to make his debut. But come on, already, baby, time is a tickin'! (and the house is all ready now)

<I may post directly about the plumbing or foundation stuff at some future point and will include pictures for your perusal at that point. This post was less about the actual work progress/process than about the CRAZY we have been living through over the past two weeks. And there's just no picture capable of capturing that.>

Pregnancy Comments: Helpful vs. Not Helpful

I've had more pregnancy comments than should fill anyone's lifetime. (I got them last pregnancy too, so I'm somewhat combining the two.) I'm writing this post to help people understand the difference between Helpful and Not Helpful comments. It seems these things should be obvious, but given the frequency with which I hear (and heard) rude things, I figured I might as well do a little "Reflecting" (or, as my friend Sarah calls it: "Ranting") about it here. (And if I'm being honest with y'all, I'm really just ranting to get these off my chest and looking for some sympathy.)


Let's start with the less pleasant category: 

NOT HELPFUL

1) Last pregnancy, at about 5 months, I went to get fitted for a bra. (It had been a really long time, and things had changed a lot and I needed something that fit those changes.) I went to a very popular store, which had always been my bra store of choice (until this incident, that is), and had the following conversation with the lady fitting me:

Lady: So, when are you due?
Me: October. (Those who know me best can understand the period at the end of my one-word sentence. For everyone else, it's my way of telling you that I would like the conversation to be finished.)
Lady: OH! It must be twins, then!
Me: No. Not twins.
Lady: Are you sure? I mean, have they checked!?
Me: Yes, they've checked! I'm just fat, I guess. (said while looking her square in the face)
~~~silence~~~
I buy the bra and leave.


2) For weeks following the accident, I was unable to go grocery shopping by myself because the pain in my chest was so strong. I literally could not even imagine hefting things into the cart (Austin included) and then into/out of the car. So, we began making a family event out of grocery shopping, spending one night a week, post-dinner at the grocery store. I was grabbing one last thing and meeting Seth at the checkout when the following conversation took place with the checkout lady:

(Upon seeing me walk up to the cart and begin talking to Austin--I had set the item down on the belt and walked right past her to the end of the line/bagging area to talk to Austin and reconnect with Seth. I had not even made eye contact with this woman when she began the following conversation.)

Lady: You're pregnant!?!? ~pause~ AGAIN!?!? (I kid you not that this is how she said it!)
Me: Um, (looking down at the belly) yup! (Looking immediately back to Austin and getting so up-in-his face that I felt it pretty darn obvious I was closing the conversation. And Seth, my dear sweet husband, went into overdrive with bagging the groceries. It was a holy-cow-I'd-better-get-us-out-of-here-quick grocery bagging if I've ever seen one!)
Lady: Do you know what you're having? 
Seth (because I'm still trying to ignore her and he's trying to smooth the waves and get us the heck out of there): Boy.
Lady: Oh man! I'm so sorry. You must be SO disappointed that you're having another boy!
(meanwhile Seth is bagging the heck out of the groceries)
Me: Just reason to try for 3, I guess! (as I give her a bit of a glare)
(he pays, we load up the last bag and we leave, walking about as fast as possible, cutting off further conversation)

When we get outside, I notice Seth's refusing to make eye contact. I laugh and ask him why. He pauses before saying he thought I was upset. With HIM! I probably said some cuss word about the checkout lady but followed it with that I wasn't the least upset by him, but couldn't believe the nerve of that lady. A checkout lady whom I don't even remember seeing/using before in my entire life just implied that I should not be pregnant again this quickly and that having two sons is somehow a bad thing! Unbelievable.


3) I don't have a great story to go along with these other Not Helpful things, but I figured a general list couldn't hurt:
"You're HUGE." --because I didn't already know that!? Who is carrying this belly around... You or Me?
"You must be almost done, huh!?" --just because I'm big doesn't mean the baby is due any minute. People have said this from like month 5 and always feel like idiots when I tell them a due date so far away. At least, I hope they feel like idiots. They should.
"Must gonna be a big baby!" --Austin was under 7 lbs, so the likelihood of this being some record-setting sized baby is highly unlikely. I'm. Just. Big. Get over it!


4) This happened yesterday at the clinic where Austin's pediatrician is, and my PCP, etc. I am sitting in the waiting room, minding my own business, trying to entertain a sick toddler when this lady walks by and has the following conversation "with" me:

Lady: Whew! When are you due?
Me: (I pointedly look at my belly before responding) 10-11-12. (Again with the period.)
Lady: My goodness! I mean, I came around the corner and saw you and was like HOLY COW!!
Me: (I laugh. AT her. But she doesn't seem to get that. Conversation over.)

Why the heck someone would think that saying that would be helpful/kind/polite/soothing/something is BEYOND me. I don't get it. Keep your lips shut, ladies and gentlemen. But, having written that just now, I realize I've never once had anything rude said to me by a guy. Always ladies! Hmmmm...


Onto the better category: 

HELPFUL

1) So I'm in the clinic yesterday with Austin (who just has a cold and then got a flu shot while we were there), and he's running from the room like a caged animal. I mean, they have door handles that are like levers that you pull down on, and he's quickly figured this one out and takes off running before I can even take a step his direction (this belly is seriously getting in the way of my toddler chasing!). Anyways, so he's done this a number of times, when he goes running down the hall, around a corner and straight toward his Dr. (We were seeing the PA as his doctor didn't have Same Day Availability when I called to make the appointment.) I was like 30 feet behind him.

I come waddling around the corner and Dr. McColm (bless his heart!) has the following exchange with us:

Dr: Oh! I thought I recognized that kiddo.
Me: Sorry, he's just too fast for me right now (apologizing for why my toddler was running the halls with, previous-to-my-turning-the-corner apparently, no supervision)
Dr: No worries! When's The Date, again?
Me: 10-11-12... We'll be seeing a lot of you in October! (And then I sigh out of pure exhaustion.)
Dr: Well, You Can Do It! (It was like a You've Got This! statement. It felt SO good. ~and then~) Come here, Austin. (picks him up from where he's rolling around on the floor, under the countertop and has since dropped his flavored tongue depressor that he loves... he just SCOOPS him up. Dr. McColm is pretty much, from what I've gathered, Seth's age. And about his build, so it was like nothing to him to scoop him up for me. And then he tosses the old tongue depressor in the garbage and gives him a new one.) Here's a new flavor stick for you. You be nice to your Momma, now, ok!? (He hands him back to me and we part ways. I'm chocking back tears as I carry Austin back to the room, where we have to wait for the flu shot.)

I'm crying as I'm writing/reading this because the kindness in his gesture is overwhelming. I mean, I'm sitting here, 24 hours later, sobbing at my computer because of a passing remark and gesture (the physically picking Austin up part) that his Dr. made! Literally sobbing. His this-will-end-soon/you-can-do-this/i-have-faith-in-you attitude/comment was so uplifting, I could barely contain myself. (And yes, pregnancy hormones ARE in full effect, but I'm a crier anyways, so I doubt it can be solely blamed on those.)

And then I'm thinking about all the schmucks who've seen me struggle with belly and toddler (and purse or purchases or car keys or door or whatever) and made some jerky comment about how huge I am or how ready I must be or how it certainly must gonna be a big baby. Dude. Comments like those are SO Not Helpful. That and the fact that you are literally not helping me at that moment makes me want to punch you in the face. Or something.


2) A friend of mine called me completely out of the blue one day and we had the following conversation:

Friend: Hey. Are you home?
Me: Yes...
Friend: Good, because I just accidentally bought too many Sprinkles cupcakes and was wondering if I could bring you one.
Me: Um, do these said cupcakes involve chocolate?
Friend: Yes...
Me: Then Yes, I'd be happy to take one off your hands!
Friend: Good, because I just exited Forest. Be there in a minute!

The best part of this story is that I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day that day and she had no idea. I mean, she hadn't known I was having a bad day until she showed up at my door with a cupcake and I started venting. She didn't do it because she knew that day was worse than most, she did it because she's just that awesome! I LOVE friends like that! And she didn't stay long (her baby was asleep in her car)--we just chatted on the porch for a minute and she was off again. While standing there, I tell her that it was awesome of her and that it couldn't have happened on any better day because that day sucked, etc. And she goes on to tell me that she remembered having one of those during pregnancy and that it all began because she "... realized it was November. Nothing important about November, I just realized it was November and couldn't stop crying." So knowing that my crying because each and every little thing seemed to go wrong for me that day wasn't completely ridiculous and I wasn't alone in experiencing things like that was so uplifting.


3) I can't remember the details about the following comments either, but there's been a few (VERY few) times when people have said something like the following:
"Oh, I carried big with each of my pregnancies too. Don't let people get you down about it."
"It ends. I promise it ends." 
"He'll be out soon."
"You look great!"
Or even just done generally-nice things like getting the door for me or grab Austin as he goes tearing off down the aisle/street/sidewalk/etc. Kind and helpful comments as well as kind and helpful gestures seriously can make or break my day at this point.


Anyways, rant over. Most people reading this wouldn't think to make any of those Not Helpful comments--to me or anyone else. But please, I beg you, think through what you're about to say before you say it--with pregnant ladies and with anyone! Plus, if you see a lady struggling with a toddler and a belly, consider helping her with the door/cart/something or simply offering a smile. It DOES make a difference, I promise!

the Before and the After (the hall closet gets an overhaul!)

A HUGE Thank You to our neighbors Sean and Sheala Smith for watching Austin Sunday evening for an hour so that Seth and I could turn this:

into this:

We just simply could not have accomplished this with Austin home. Pulling everything out, cleaning, sorting, purging, etc and our toddler would have been WAY too "underfoot." And we couldn't do it during nap time since this closet is directly across from where he sleeps (plus we needed that room's space to spread out in). So THANK YOU Sean and Sheala!!