Induction Junction, What's your Function...

It is very fitting to title this blog entry with a "shout out" to the classic series School House Rock. After all, as many friends getting ready to slip on the backpack and head to school, I am waiting to drop my "front pack" and have a baby.

Alas, baby disagrees. She has made quite a lovely home inside my uterus. Sounds like Isabella has gone totally "HGTV" in there. She strung up new light fixtures just last week with the help of David Bromstand (Color Splash anyone?) and Vern Yip (Ryan's favorite designer) and now refuses to leave. Despite an eviction notice delivered about 2 weeks ago, she has barricaded herself inside insisting this is prime real estate.

Since she has ignored my requests to leave peacefully, my doctor has decided it is time to intervene. On Friday, after checking progress (which is absolutely none) and separating my membranes (the procedure of removing the "bag of waters" from the uterus in a horrifically painful manner), Doc decided this baby needs some encouragement by way of induction.

I am scheduled to check in to the hotel...er...hospital on Monday evening, August 24th, for the beginning procedures. This involves a "painless" process of receiving medication to ripen the delivery zone. If all goes well, the next morning, I will be give pitocin and begin a painful journey of contractions and labor. Hopefully, baby and I react well, get in sync and manage to push out this tenant. If not, I get a one way ticket to the OR for a c-section. Wicked.

Due Date.

At 40 weeks!

Still waiting for baby. Maisie is indifferent.

Belly at 40 weeks.

It looks like it may pop.

As you can see from the blogger countdown, today is our due date. Rather than nuzzling my bundle of joy, I'm blogging at home, contraction free. WTF!

It would appear that Isabella does not want to come out just yet. I have heard many theories about her delay. My personal favorite came from my mother's aunt who explained that Isabella is a future Miss Universe and can't make her appearance until Saturday's competition. (The Miss Universe pageant is a big deal in Puerto Rico). Considering I didn't even know this event was taking place, I wonder how my daughter knew? In-utero Internet?

The lesson here is: a due date does not equal a baby.

Dropped?

At 39 weeks.

Wondering if I have dropped.

At 39 weeks.

On Thursday (8.13), I walked into my office ready to start another typical day of government work. For the last few days, my coworkers have gleefully celebrated my daily arrival, hoping that they will win the Baby Watch 2009 pool. However, this day, I received new reactions: "Amelis, you've totally dropped!"

AH! Really? I quickly model my belly to all who will look, flipping from side to side. Yep, they are convinced I have dropped. I quickly call Ryan to share the news. I fight through the rest of the day, cleaning and organizing my desk just in case I don't return the next day.

Well, as it turns out, it is two days later and I am still pregnant. Ryan and I really can't tell if I have dropped, though I am experiencing awesome pressure in my pelvis. Our doctor appointment yesterday hinted at only minor changes, including dilation of a fingertip. I was prescribed lots of walks to hopefully help with progression. Our next appointment is 8.21, one day after our due date. I really hope to miss that appointment....

Pedicure: a CURE for baby anxiety.

As you can see, we are down to the single digits. Yea! Unfortunately, there are still no signs of baby. I am contraction free. I am carrying this baby so high, people are confusing my baby bump for a third boob. Today, I wondered if the exit sign in my womb is pointed to my throat. Not likely, but come on Isabella! Make your move!

So, no better way to cure anxiety due to Baby Watch 2009 then with a lovely pedicure. I may still be pregnant, but I at least I have dang nice pink toes!

PBK Room Submission.

A view from the doorway.

The new storage cubes.

Please note, baby's first pictures on the wall.

The changing table, with baby products and polka dot cover.

The silver frame will soon contain baby pictures!

Custom art gallery.

The custom curtain, with ribbon trim.

The nursery is almost done! I realize I am bias, but I am pretty sure this is the best nursery since the last PBK (Pottery Barn Kids) catalog came out. I am going to submit these photos and see if they make the next edition. Brag much?

Hot Mess.

Maisie enjoying "her" new chair.

Happy 1st Birthday, Mr. Brady!

The nursery, near finished!

At 38 weeks, with 13 days to go!

It is 8 P.M. and the official temperature is 90 degrees with a heat index of 98 degrees (source: The Weather Channel). I am toasting and melting, at the same time. I have heat rash in places I can't see and acne all over my face. I look like a teenage boy dealing with a harsh hormonal puberty while working as a fry cook at Hardees. Sure, I am glowing, but it is just sweat.

Until today, my summer has been incredibly pleasant. I should have known that my luck would run out in the last two weeks! Oh well, it just adds a little flare and anticipation to the big arrival.

Despite the heat, the last few days have been lovely and filled with friends. Auntie/Godmother Lindi helped design the nursery, ending my roller coaster anxiety. Jorgito, Jorge and Jessie celebrated Baby Watch 2009 with DQ cake. Mr. Adam, Ms. Megan, Ryan and I helped Brady enjoy his first birthday with his family and friends.

Nothing at 38 weeks.

It has been three weeks of delightful "checks" with no changes. I have neither dilated or effaced. I can't say I am particularly surprised; I have this feeling that Isabella would prefer to come near the end of August. After 9 months of coaching her that 38 weeks gestation would be perfect for all players, she disagrees. This must be out first mother-daughter dispute. She informed me, with a brute force kick in gut and punch in the bladder, that she will come out when she darn well pleases. Until then, she plans to continue using my bladder as pillow and my stomach as an ottoman.

Excuse me...slight contraction...for real.

Since Isabella is hunkering down, I plan to use my time to continue to prepare for her arrival in T-minus 2 weeks (approx). More updates soon...

Faux Labor.

Changing Table Update.

Please note, we have acquired baby care products.

The car seat will soon be replaced by a glider/rocker.

If I can find one...

The crib bedding with festive pillows!

Post-race photo: Plattsmouth Triathlon.

At 37 weeks, belly and feet.

As I told you, I am nesting full force these days. Last night's 'nest fest' included spot cleaning the carpet (only to discover I want a carpet cleaner) and a dust-bustin' Dyson session. I felt good, despite the massive swell I acquired below the ankle. Once I came down from the nesting high, I realize maybe I wasn't feeling all that good. "Oh...burp...was that vomit?" Yeah...I totally threw up in my mouth. Instantly, I thought it was a simple case of indigestion, a common pregnancy symptom. Before jumping to my bottle of Hy-Vee brand Tums, I have a seat on my bed to just relax....

Suddenly, my belly tightens. It is hard, like bone. A surge of heat and cramping pain. "Holy son-0f-a-biscuit, I'm having a contraction." Thanks to Methodist's Prepared Childbirth class, I am totally prepared. Step one: cleansing breath (deep breath). Step two: patterned breathing (ha he ha he ha he ha ho). Step three (as contraction ends): cleansing breath. I survived, patting myself on the back. So not a big deal...

Prior to this event, I have had a few random contractions that mimic this similar pattern. All just randoms, as they happen once. But, this night was different.

Just as I take my cleansing breath, Ryan walks in our room. I tell him of my awesome laboring skills and that coaching me is going to be a piece of cake. He decides, it is time for bed. Of course, I am still coming down from my nesting high and (so I think) battling indigestion. Rather than bed, I opt for bath. As I prepare my relaxation heaven, another surge! Another contraction...followed by another....and another....and even another.

"OMG, could this be it??" I think to myself. "Should I be timing these? Is my water going to break...in the tub...SICK...should I get Ryan? Should I go to the triathlon in the morning? What if I do and my water breaks mid-race? Am I having the baby like now???"

Yeah, so I freaked. Sort of. I was able to stay calm enough to practice my breathing and not wake my coach. I even managed to start thinking rationally. First, I told myself that it is far too early. At my last check up, I had no effacement or dilation. I doubt that triggered this. Second, this is way too random. Third, there is no pattern.

OK, I am not in labor. I am in faux labor (aka Braxton-Hicks contractions). Much like faux fur or pleather, it was not the real deal. It was only substitute to trick one's mind into believing you got something really flash. The pain was tolerable, but again it was fake. It only makes me more curious....what will the real deal feel like?

Today, I had another faux labor spell. Again, I survived. But, could the real deal be on its way?