Greetings from the Land of the Midnight Dairy

That's not a song title, but it damn well should be...

Who was I to think I'd have more time to blog after the arrival of Baby J? Some of my fears have been realized with the fact that she is a night owl, just as she was in the womb. Since Ray gets up at 3 a.m. for work, I can't really ask him to pull an all nighter with the baby. That, and he's lacking some of the necessary equipment required to care for Baby J at this point as well.

What this means, is that I've been watching a lot of late night television, something I haven't done since TFYO was an infant, who also liked to stay up all night and nurse for hours on end. It's been putting questions in my head.

Like, when did Conan O'Brien's hair get so big? Is he purposely brushing it higher to compliment that huge forehead?

When did Craig Ferguson become funnier than anyone else on late night TV?

And when did they start a series called "The History of Sex" on the History Channel?

Is Billy Mays really a person, or an animatronic doll?

And that guy that does the Sham-Wow commercials, why is he so damn angry?

Why would anyone need to have a Matlock marathon at 3 a.m., especially when the target demographic for the show is in bed by 8 p.m.?

And who thought an infomercial on colon cleansing was a good idea? Especially with detailed pictures?

I know it seems like these are frivolous questions, but when you've been subsisting on three hours of broken sleep per day, they take on an ominous tone. By the time Baby J settles down at 5:30 in the morning, I can't help but wonder if I have enough cleaning power in my vacuum, if my teeth are white enough, and if an onion chopper has a place in my kitchen.

But wait, there's more!

Actually, there's not. I've always just wanted to say that.

Welcome to the World...

I meant to post sooner, but I just got home from the hospital yesterday. Sorry about that...

Baby J arrived into the world, Saturday, April 19th at 9:52 p.m. EDT via emergency c-section.

There's actually nothing wrong with her, except, perhaps for a flawed sense of direction and a love of tap dancing.

I arrived at the hospital late Saturday afternoon, having fairly strong and regular contractions, but they were going to send me home. That is, until they did an internal examination.

Nurse: "Um, that doesn't feel like a head. No, that's definitely not a head. Maybe it's a hand. "

She then calls in another nurse and invites her to take a grab.

Nurse 2: "No, that's not a head, and it's not a hand, either. That's a foot. Ma'am, did you know your baby is breech?"

Aw, hell.

It was at that moment that Baby J decided to start setting off alarms by letting her heart rate plummet, disappear, and then reappear with gusto not thirty seconds later.

Nurse 1: "Um, you are most definitely NOT going home. "

Initially, they were just going to keep me for observation overnight, keep an eye on the baby, and make sure she didn't try to kick her way out. I sent Ray and TFYO home. Five minutes later, the Amazing Baby J did her disappearing heart beat trick again, and I was informed that I'd be having a c-section within the hour. Ray, TFYO and our very dear friend Debbie all made it back just in time for me to be wheeled into the OR.

I have to say a huge thank you to all the staff at St. Joseph/Candler-Mary Telfair Hospital. The doctor who performed my surgery was quick, the nurses were all warm, funny, caring and professional, and even though I was terrified, everyone worked hard to make me comfortable. I panicked about being cut open, but everyone was just wonderful, including the nurse who did a pratfall just for my benefit. Shame I didn't actually see her do it.

I was given a spinal block at 9:35, Ray walked into the OR in his scrubs (see picture), and Baby J was born at 9:52. By 10:05, I was cleaned up, stapled up, and sent off to my room.

They're cute, aren't they?

It turns out, Baby J's heart is just fine. However, she had the cord wrapped around her foot, and she was stomping on it. It was like her own personal hoedown. Just for good measure, she was kicking the placenta around, and kicked at everyone on her way out, too.

I look like hell in this picture, but I don't really care. After all, I'd just given birth. For the record, Baby J appears to have dark hair and dark eyes. Otherwise, she looks almost identical to her big sister when TFYO was that age.

I'm tired, and I'm sore, but we're home now, embarking on our latest adventure. Stay tuned for more exciting episodes!

So tired, tired of waiting...

...taking the advice of Willowtree and Dumdad. I do love the Kinks, and Ray Davies's writing is so under-appreciated.

I had another doctor's appointment today, and since I'm writing, I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened.

Not a damned thing.

I'm now at 2.5 centimetres. Whoopee. My doctor's advice? Don't sweat it, and try walking.

Easy for him to say. It's not like he's trying to walk with a bowling ball hanging down to his knees. Not as far as I know, anyway.

I have been in a bit of a cleaning fit, lately. I've been vacuuming lamp shades and drapes, reorganizing books and DVDs. I halfway thought about baking a pie, but I can't decide what kind I want. Right now, it's a toss up between canned cherries and fresh blackberries, which are just coming into the stores. I don't think I can afford the blackberries, though. I'm hoping all this nesting activity means that labour will come soon. Of course, it could just mean I'm bored sitting around the house.

So in the meantime, we continue to wait, and ponder pie...

The waiting is the hardest part...

...with thanks to Tom Petty. I'm going to have to start researching songs that have to do with waiting, I think.

I'm still exactly where I was last week, at two centimetres. While I'm glad we haven't had pre-term labour yet, I'm getting kinda antsy.

I am having contractions. The little box they have at the doctor's that goes "ping" showed me that. There just not apparently strong enough to be doing anything right now. After being hooked up with various pads and bands, etc, I lay in a chair listening to my child's heartbeat. Unfortunately for everyone, Baby J doesn't like being touched all that much, and efforts to get her to stay in one place to continue monitoring her heart rate were pretty futile. Every time they got her pinned down for a few minutes, she'd turn over to the other side, which of course also made it difficult to monitor my contractions. With every move, she was snapping the velcro off the monitoring pads.

Eventually she calmed down, and the doctor looked at the readout and said incredulously, "Are you feeling those?"

"Well, some of them. But they don't really hurt at all".

So, I'm having regular contractions (apparently every fifteen minutes or so), they're just doing much to move me along. I've got another doctor's appointment Tuesday, so we'll see if we make it.

And the beat goes on...

Don't stop believin'...

Would you believe I still haven't gone into actual labour yet?

I am, however, now officially on maternity leave with strict instructions from my coworkers not to do anything. Which means I now want to do laundry and clean the house.

I do have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and with any luck I'll still be at two centimetres and I can wait another week to have the baby. I'd rather not have her just now, since she'd be a bit early. I decided to go on maternity leave after feeling like crap on Wednesday, and taking Thursday off. Friday was my last day.

I am also overwhelmed at the generosity of my coworkers, who managed to organize a baby shower in just one day. We had registered at Target a few weeks ago, and one of the girls I work with said it seemed like most of the building was there on Thursday night. And now that the furniture for the nursery has finally arrived, we may actually have everything in place just in time!

So, in the meantime, still waiting...

Does the Jeopardy Theme have a title?

Two centimetres dilated, 25% effaced, and holding.

And still working. And hoping I at least make it to the end of the week.

I would have posted this yesterday when I found this out at the doctor's, but I didn't want anyone to think it was an April Fool's joke.