#3 is HE.

I took this photo on February 16th, the day I turned 39 weeks. The day I was scheduled to be induced, but called in the night before to cancel. Despite my claim that I was done complaining, I fully intended to use this photo to complain some more about still being pregnant. And I was going to complain, despite having the opportunity to evict my comfy tenant. Even though I KNEW I was carrying a giant baby. And my OB knew I was carrying a giant baby. And she suggested we induce earlier than later, I just couldn't do it. It doesn't feel right to me; choosing the baby's birthday. And I don't want to interrupt any karmic pattern (if such a thing exists - better safe than sorry.)

And, trivial as it may be, I didn't want to pick the 16th, my nephew Xander's birthday. And I didn't want to pick the 18th, my brother Brennan's birthday. But if I was going to induce I might as well get it done, so I didn't want to wait until the 19th or later. What I really wanted, was the 17th - since the day I found my due date was February 23rd. I all but begged Dr. Martinez to induce me on her one and only day off that week, just because I liked the date. It was a Friday, perfect. It was between my family's birth dates, awesome. It was almost a whole week early, better yet.

So, as it were, Matt and I continued to deliberate about what day I would actually go in and have this baby. In the back of my mind, I just kept repeating, "come on baby, do this yourself, you can do it." Every single time I had a strong contraction, I would think, "please keep coming, let's have another one." In fact, on the 16th, as I sat at Xander's birthday dinner with my family, I exclaimed, "I just don't understand how one can walk around with this much pressure, and have contractions every hour for the past 5 days, and NOT be making any progress!"

I went home. Put the kiddos to bed (or, well, watched Matt put them to bed. Seriously, by 8pm, I was pretty much handicapped. I couldn't bend over. I couldn't lift my kids. I really didn't want to stand. Or sit. Matt has pretty much had 3 kids for the past few weeks.) And tried to relax and not get too disappointed that yet another day had passed without the arrival of Baby O #3. As I went to bed, and brushed my teeth, I was honestly startled when I looked in the mirror...I had labor lips! (For those who don't know, I am sure you can predict that a woman is going into labor in the next 24-48hrs by her lips. Long story.) I went to bed comforted by the idea that perhaps things would happen on their own. And did they ever...

...after falling asleep at 11pm, things got rolling. First, I woke up at midnight, to pee. Then again a bit before 1am, to pee. Then again before 2am, to pee. And at this point, I am thinking, do I really have to pee, or are these contractions waking me up, giving me the sensation that I have to pee? Oh well, back to bed. Up again at 2am, then 2:30, then 2:50, then 3:15. And at this point, I am certain I am having contractions, and they are getting painful, and there is no more falling back to sleep for me. Despite the pain, I kept thinking, please keep going. Please get closer together. Every 10-20 minutes is not going to get the job done. Finally, I wake Matt up around 4am, and tell him I am thinking we need to head to the hospital soonish, but I will try to put it off until 6am. I didn't want to wake anyone up too early, and I didn't want to get sent away since the contractions rarely were closer than 10 minutes together. I mean, how embarrassing would that be, I have triaged and delivered so many OB patients, and this is my 3rd, I should know when I am in labor, right? So, I get in the bath for 20 minutes or so, which honestly does help with contraction pain. But man, these baby's are getting painful. Finally, a bit before 5, the quality and quantity of pain suddenly changed and increased and I began to get concerned that I might deliver the baby at home if we don't get going. The contractions may have been spaced out, but they were doing their job.

We call Mimi. We pack our bag. We arrive at the hospital by 6am. And not a minute too soon. I am telling you, thank god those contractions were 10 minutes or greater apart. So, so, so, so painful. I have now switched from praying for the contractions to continue and get closer together, to praying and begging for them to space out and stop. At least until I get the epidural. I get check-in, settled, labs drawn and progress checked and found to be a good 6-7cm on my way...all the while, being told by everyone I was way too happy and comfortable to be in labor (it's not like you're in tons of pain between the contractions, so I was fine as long as I wasn't contracting, and, I was about to have a baby! Who isn't happy about that?)

Dr. Martinez came in, despite it being her day off, love her. And the epidural was placed by 8am, love it. And I napped, visited with my mom, enjoyed my alone time with Matt, and labored the rest of the way in peace. By about 11am, I decided there was enough pressure, I was ready to push. Baby's head was still up there a bit (not quite station +1), but I was assured that was normal for a third baby, and for a big baby. Four contractions, a knotted cord around the neck and baby facing sunny-side up later, at 11:17am, a huge, purple, bloated Baby O #3 arrived!

The first image I have of this baby, is it's profile. And I exclaim, "Whoa, now that's an O'Laughlin!" Seriously, it was kind of creepy, I felt like I looked down to see myself delivering Matt. My next thought? This better be a boy, because, well, if that huge, manly looking thing is a girl, then it's a bit unfortunate. And sure enough, on the verge of happy of happiest tears, Matt exclaims, "it's a boy!"

They lay him on my chest, I poke at his quadruple chin. And everyone in that delivery room, is saying, "let's get him on the scale! He is huge. How much does that baby weigh!?" I watch as the grams shoot straight to the 4000's, and keep climbing. I see 4700+ grams, and in my mind think, "holy s*$t, I just delivered a 10 pound baby! He is over 10 pounds." They convert to 10lbs 7ozs. Matt and I look at each other, and he comes over to my bedside, still a bit teary and says, "I think he's a George." I agree. Definitely a George. (Not the name we had settled on during the drive to the hospital.)
Soon, thereafter, the meet and greet begins. George meets his 2 older brothers, as well as a few aunts and uncles and grandparents. I am surprisingly content, and relaxed, and not overwhelmed by the chaos of 3 children in a tiny hospital room. And it felt so natural to have another little boy. I am sure I would be just as happy if I had a little girl right now, but now, having met George, I wouldn't want it any other way. He is the perfect #3. He has managed to outweigh his slightly older brother, yet has the chicken legs to contest with his oldest brother. He is sleepy, but so alert during those few moments he decides to stay awake. He is a bit distract-able when it comes to nursing, but sleeps through the madness. And he is mine. All mine. And I look forward to getting to know him more and more. Everyday. As Matt said, almost 9 months ago, when we found out about our wonderful little surprise, my love has just increased by 50%. Perhaps, even more.

George Edward O'Laughlin
10lbs 7oz, 20 inches
11:17am on February 17th, 2012

Lllppd.nmkljkiikkkkkl

I am getting to that point. Where I can't wait for coffee to taste good again. For sleep to be satisfying and comfortable. When I can go for a walk and not dread every step. Perhaps I could even workout. Or enjoy a beer. And kiss my husband without gagging from bad breath. And lay next to my 3 year old and read him a book at night. Or pick up my giant 15 month old and hold him for more than 3 seconds. And tie my shoes without almost losing consciousness. Or just get dressed without needing to rest in between applying each individual garment. And NO MORE INDIGESTION. Or restless legs.

Probably, my mind is most restless of all. It's a strange thing to not look forward to anything but one single event. Honestly, I am not complaining, just simply stating a fact. There is NOTHING I look forward to right now, except for the birth of this child. It is all consuming. At a HUGE 37 weeks and some change, nothing is enjoyable anymore. Food sure isn't. Sleep definitely isn't. Work, well, if it ever was enjoyable, it is now the opposite (as in I dread it). Even sitting here typing is uncomfortable and unsatisfying. (Now replace "sitting here typing" with a different, slightly more inappropriate/over-share type word, and we've got that in the mix too.) Now I remember why I cried every night for the 10 days prior to Brock's birth. It's just bothersome to know that the kid is fully cooked, but something keeps it in there. Perhaps it is set up like this, so when the baby comes, wakes up at all hours, spits up, poops constantly, and runs you ragged, you don't care. Because ANYTHING is better than being pregnant at this point.

I am assuming these feelings hit at the same time during the last 2 pregnancies. Though, originally, I thought it started MUCH earlier, so I thought I was getting by easy with this third go. Now, I think it's that these last 2 weeks drag like you wouldn't believe therefore giving the illusion that this torture lasts for weeks and weeks on end. And to add to that (and the last 2 were the same way), I contract a lot. Just randomly. But pretty uncomfortable. And sometimes, 2 or 3 will come in a row, just enough to get my hopes up. Talk about your Chinese Water Torture. It really isn't as bad with #3, because I learned my lesson from the previous 2, but you can't help but hope.
But the end is getting so close in sight. I bought some size 1 Swaddlers today, as well as Johnson & Johnson baby wash. I might actually wash and clean the infant carseat tomorrow. Afterall, even though the last 2 made it well past 39 weeks, every kiddo is different. For now, that is the glimmer of hope I hold on to...or is thinking any day could be the day, torture as well? Who knows.

Lots and lots of sighing.

I cannot wait, can't wait, can't wait, can't wait for this baby to arrive. I think my whole little family can't wait for this baby to arrive. My already on the short side temper is constantly boiling just beneath the surface. And maybe I was having an extra pregnant-looking day, but every. single. person. I even had the potential to make eye contact with had something to say, ask, or express to me about my huge belly. The "when are you due?" question I have gotten over. I just simply state, "3 weeks". Which these days, is often, annoyingly, greeted with "you're not going to make it that long, honey". And the, "any day now, huh?" type questions have got to stop. Because it is not any day now.

And, you know what? Most likely I WILL make it three more weeks. The same things that makes me a "cute pregnant person" are the same things that keep these kiddos in there. My body doesn't seem to mind pregnancy. I don't swell up. I've only gained 20lbs. My blood pressure does not increase. I don't have contractions (lots of braxton hicks). The baby is still rolling around, un-engaged. I don't think I have ever "dropped". 3 weeks from now, I will most likely be scheduling an induction to avoid going 2 weeks overdue and having a 12 pound baby. Yes, with Brock, my water broke 4 days prior to the due date, but, guess what? I still wasn't in labor. I still had to go through the whole induction process to get him out of there; 27 hours after my water broke. Curtis was induced, completely. My body is capable of birthing these kids, it just doesn't care to. Ever.

Though, comparatively speaking, this pregnancy has been far better, symptom-wise, than the other two, I can't say it has been less demanding. Working long hours, chasing around and lifting 2 kiddos and all the laundry and cleaning and dishes that go with them has done me in. I can't even pretend to be comfortable. And I HATE to complain, out loud to people. And I am a really awful liar, possibly even incapable of doing so. (People get the impression that I am pompous because I am always saying I can do anything...but they fail to notice the times when I admit I could never do something - like become an actor, singer, performer of any type.) I prefer to give the impression that I am happy and life has never been better at all times. Because, honestly, if I stop and look at it, I am happy, and life HAS never been better. There is a saying, "If everyone were to throw all their problems out into one pile, you'd grabs yours right back". I truly agree, I know I am blessed. I love my life. And that, my friends, is why I must resort to blogging. So, I can express my true feelings thoroughly, so as not to give the wrong impression. And to save Matt from a little bit of big, uncomfortable, pregnant-wife whining.

From here on out, just don't ask me how I am doing. I don't want to lie. And I don't want to whine. Just know, I will be happier with the kid on the outside. And, let's get real. It's pretty apparent from my ragged, worn appearance, and the constant sighing what my answer to that question is anyhow. I know you all have the power of observance, use it.

Let's hope my next pregnancy update will be one with a picture of a newborn included...

The 'Nesting" List

For a 3rd baby, there really isn't much you need - material wise. I have all the baby supplies, clothes, car seats, strollers, toys, etc that a mother could possibly need. (Though, 2 little boys dirty up washcloths pretty darn quick...I ain't touchin' my precious new baby's butt with those tainted things! And diapers are always useful, will I ever stop buying diapers!?) What I really need, is a big burst of energy, and some major cleaning and organization.

1. Laundry - I have a big collection of boys clothes that are too small which need to be put away in storage. And newborn clothes to wash and get out of storage. And a place to put the newborn's clothing.
2. The nursery needs a deep, deep clean.
3. Toys need to be organized.
4. My bedroom needs to be reorganized so clear a spot for the baby's bed (hopefully Baby O #3 takes after it's big bro's and does not need to stay in o ur room long, because it will wake up one time or less by 4 weeks.)
5. And if the above circumstance does happen, then Brock's room needs to be reorganized (perhaps a borrowed crib from a friend set up) for Curtis join.
6. And because of all this "reorganization" which is really another way to say, go through all my s*@t and get rid of some of it, so there is space for another human, we need to cut a shelf for the downstairs closet. Maybe add some hooks to it as well. And buy a couple storage baskets.
7. Then, all this stuff that I am shuffling around and adding to storage means that the storage area of the house requires some rearranging and attention.
8. And we pulled up all the carpet...so we need area rugs.
9. Did I mention laundry?
10. And a name for the kiddo might be nice.

    

I think that about covers it. Phew. Now that it's written down, at least there is evidence that I thought about actually preparing for this child. Just don't judge if none of it gets accomplished.

Oh, and *hint hint, nudge nudge* dinners as a new baby gift are always welcome! I cannot tell you how much that helped us when Curtis was born!!

***************************************************************************************

The Nesting List- Modified!!

1. You can mark numbers 1, 5, 6, 7 & 8 off the list.
2. And add: we need baby wash clothes. baby diapers. a Navy blue crib sheet. a dangle toy for the new baby's carrier. Nuk pacifiers (for newborn and for Curtis)
   
3. I would like a new pair of house slippers for my month as stay at home mom with 3 kids - doubt I am leaving the house.
4. And more laundry.
   

And I am sure there is more, but that is about as productive as my brain gets these days...

Attempted Escape?

This baby is determined to be nothing like their older brothers. I got to experience a trip to triage for the first time ever in a pregnancy! I am 35 weeks today, and to celebrate, I decided to have my usual breakfast, a Nutrigrain bar, and some coffee. Sometimes I will eat more, but this particular morning was spent trying to force feed Brock his steroids, and get everyone out of the house to get to clinic on time. I get to clinic, and it is INSANE! Of course, all the patients show up, none of them are simple, and I am running around all morning. All of this, after a long night of coughing, indigestion and getting up a few times with Brock who has croup.

So, I forget to eat a midmorning snack, or have a glass of water. I don't even have time to pee. By 11am, I finally say screw it, I am using the pregnancy card. I am ditching clinic for a moment to grab a drink and use the restroom. Well, after I do this, my crazy morning hits me, and I start feeling some pretty intense lower abdomen and back pain, as well as light-headed. I have the nurse take me blood pressure, and it's 90/60, which was normal - when I was working out 6 days a week! Nowadays it's right around 115/75. And though the pain is constant and sharp, not contraction like at all, I decide it's best not to take any chances.

Well, the nurses and doctor I was working with, REFUSE to let me walk to OB triage. They make me sit in a wheelchair, and ride through my own hospital! I don't get embarrassed easily, but I kind of was......anyway, long story short, I sat hooked up to a fetal heart monitor for a solid 2 hours. I was contracting every 3-4 minutes for a good portion of that time, and guzzled no less than 2 liters of water. I got lectured to drink more by everyone of my fellow residents, nurses, and doctors, and was sent home to "relax". Which I did. And it was hard. Relaxing is not my forte.

Other than that, just the usual discomforts to report. The worst of all of it is sleep. It's just not comfortable anymore. I was honestly feeling great until, BAM, 32 weeks. Every other night, I am in the recliner to sleep. The restless legs are just stupid. I cannot bend over to pick up anything, so our house is just constantly littered with toys and shoes. I can't hold Curtis for more than about 90 seconds. I try to avoid picking up Brock at all costs. I don't think Curtis even likes my lap anymore because of the belly.

And, though, I really have no room to speak, seeing as a friend of mine just delivered a set of 7 pound twins, I am carrying what is the size of a term baby for most people, at 35 weeks. Basically, you could say, I get to carry a term baby for 5-6 weeks, instead of just a couple. Estimated at 6lbs 15oz at 34 weeks 5 days. Now, these can be up to a pound off, so yes, it could be 5lbs 15ozs (still term for a lot of people) or 7lbs 15ozs (term for the majority of people). Curtis was estimated at 6lbs 4ozs at the same time, and Brock 6lbs 8oz...so I guess this one is only 1/2 pound ahead. Which means, if we make it to our due date, 10 pounds is a likelihood!! Gross. I am sorry, but I really don't want to say I had a 10 pound baby. I really, really, really, want another one in the 8 pound vicinity.

Lastly, with just over a month to go, we have really ignored this baby. Maybe that's why #3 felt the need to give me a little wake up call. We have not even discussed names, not once. Not at all. I kind of refuse to think about boys' names. I haven't even begun looking for or gathering all my newborn stuff out of storage. I just hope 3 carseats will fit in the 4Runner, because I can't settle on a minivan just yet. I am such a snob. At least, I have somewhat been "nesting" (according to the in-laws), as we pulled up all the carpet on the main level to expose the nice hardwoods. Not sure how that helps the baby...

...nevertheless, I cannot wait for Baby O #3 to arrive! When I was sitting in that hospital bed, contracting, a teeny, weeny part of me, was a little excited at the idea of meeting the baby so soon. Though, I would really rather he/she joins us with fully developed lungs and vital organs. But 38 weeks would be great...February 9th sounds nice, right?

The camera adds 10lbs. Right?

I guess it's because I continue to feel surprisingly well for the current gestational age of my newest child, that whenever I see my update photo I am blown away by how huge I look! I mean, I am 30 weeks and appear to be days from delivery. Lately, strangers don't even hesitate to comment on my pregnant state. And often, they are slightly taken aback when I say I am not due until the end of February. A cashier at the hospital cafeteria was so confident with her pregnancy guesstamation skills, that she saw me and excitedly exclaimed, "A Christmas baby!? How sweet." My reply? "Let's hope not. Baby's not due until February 23rd."

And EVERYONE, with the exception of maybe 4 people, is sure Baby O #3 is a girl. I mean, it's bad. I have gotten to the point where I almost refer to the kid as a she. I imagine I am talking to a girl when I have conversations with my constantly twitching belly. And on that topic. Pretty sure she is trying to escape. Right now. Through the wrong outlet, my ribs. Also, this kid is rarely, if ever, in the correct, head down position. Number 3 spends most of its days lying on his/her back. Completely transverse, pummeling my stomach and ribs with its incredibly powerful legs. Which brings me to another concern. The only way a 30 weeker could possibly be this strong is if it weighs 5 lbs. Already. And if it weighs 5 lbs now, and it gains a hald a pound a week from here on out. And I make it to term. You do the math. Ok, I'll do the math. 10 lbs! I am terrified I am currently creating a 10 pounder. A 10 pound girl? That would just be plain weird. Therefore, EVERYONE, with the exception of maybe 4 people, is wrong. I think. Or not.

Anyway. If I could sleep on just 2 pillows. And keep my legs from becoming so restless. I could go so far as to say I don't mind pregnancy this go 'round. I am not even waddling yet, at all. (Though I am kind of taking this as a bad sign. This means babies head is not buried in my pelvis, as it should be. He/she/it has a few weeks to get it's act straight, but it's making me nervous.)

I am just getting really excited. The more I can discern body parts, the more it sinks in that a little person will be arriving soon. 30 weeks is just fun. It's the beginning of the end. The home stretch. I can't wait for February!

Pregnancy myths.

Just like I don't believe in "nesting", I do not believe in "cravings". For the entire first trimester, even if you don't have the full on 24/7 nausea, or vomiting, I am guessing everyone has a touch of a loss of appetite. Therefore, when nothing sounds good, you sit and file through every possible food that you would ever be willing to eat until you stumble upon something that sounds reasonable. And once you find that one, or two items, it's the only thing you CAN eat. It's not that you craved it. It's the only thing that works. Therefore, it seems to the outsider that you are having a so-called "craving" because you insist on eating these one, or two random dishes, and nothing else.

Perhaps you are relieved from this predicament during the 2nd trimester. At which point, you are so excited you can finally eat again, that you begin wanting all the things you couldn't eat before. Slightly appearing as though you crave them.

Then the 3rd trimester rolls around. Now baby is shoving up on your stomach. The indigestion and reflux is in full swing, and again, nothing sounds good. Perhaps your appetite is gone again. Repeat cycle from trimester one.

Therefore, just because I insisted on going to Village Inn last night, for the first time in at least 5, if not 6 years, because I felt like breakfast food for dinner, and perhaps a slice of French Silk pie, does not mean I was "craving" it. It simply means, that's the only thing that sounded edible at that moment.

The Little, Little Little

Don't let the title fool you, little, little, little is no how I feel nor look! Despite an only 7 lbs weight gain, my belly is bigger than EVER at this point. Maybe I should quit having my 5 week milestone prego belly photo taken right before bed, after a 12 hour work day, with an iPhone. It's making me appear as though I might be run down. Unfortunately, that is usually the only spare moment I can find for fun little things like this these days.

Though, I no longer go too long without being reminded that there is a little guy swimming around in my belly, I am still extremely thankful that this pregnancy has been relatively delightful. I mean, I was just pregnant. So it seems impossible that I could forget how much each baby moved, but I was SURE Curtis was more active than Brock (who was pretty darn crazy) and now, I have NO DOUBT that #3 is the most insane and strong of them all! I don't remember catching the movement of my stomach out of the corner of my eye this early. And I am not sure this one sleeps. Ever. Awesome. I was bound to have a difficult baby eventually. Anyway, what I find interesting about this third pregnancy and all the movement and whatnot, is that I don't really care about my OB appointments. I don't need to hear the heartbeat to know this kid's ok. I know it all day long. Unlike with Brock. Those appointments couldn't come quick enough. With your first kid, everything is so novel and amazing. With your third, it's still amazing, just no novelty, whatsoever.It looks like another boy, doesn't it? The guess by all, including strangers, is overwhelmingly girl. Mostly, I think it's hopeful thinking on the friend's and family's part. As for the strangers, I really can't explain that. Brock STILL insists he is having a baby sister. Never changes his answer to that question. And I think he is getting pretty excited and/or obsessed with my belly. He asks to give the baby kisses all the time. And does. He will also run up to me and say "belly, belly, belly!" while giving it a rub, pat, or putting his cheek up to it. Just today, he asked if he could play with the baby in my belly. Not quite yet buddy, not yet. Curtis? He remains blissfully clueless (I worry this may be a theme throughout his lifetime.)

Also, I don't think I have done my delivery date prediction! Usually, I try to get this on the record in the first trimester (btw, I guessed the previous two's birthdays exactly, feelin' a lot of pressure right now.) But, I am just having a really hard time with this one. In addition to feeling larger, feeling baby move more, sooner, and the ridiculous number of hours I am working along with the absurd amount of Braxton Hicks contractions I am already having, I am inclined to think this one might actually come early, and naturally (without augmentation that is, not without an epidural!) But, at the same time, the date February 21st just seems to pop in my head, everytime. So, I guess I'll go with it.

So, that's it. I am 25 weeks. It's still as unbelievable and exciting to me today, as it was that random date in June when I decided to take a pregnancy test that we will be welcoming another "Little" in just 3 months. I cannot wait to kiss that adorable looking nose. I may be busy. I may be exhausted. But most of all I am elated. We love you so much already Baby #3!

Hump Day

I am officially 20 weeks (and one day now). Therefore over the hump!

I love life. I generally NEVER want it to go by quickly. When I really think about the fact that my first born is nearly 3, it makes me a bit sad. I've loved every stage of his relatively short little life, but it needs to SLOW DOWN. My second kiddo is going to be one in a month. What!? Stop. Stop. Stop. But when I realized that I was already 20 weeks pregnant, I in no way wished that would change. As far as I am concerned, 9 months of pregnancy CANNOT go by fast enough. Ever.

That being said. I can't complain about number 3 one bit. The reason this pregnancy is flying by (in combination with my ridiculous workload) is because I hardly even notice the little jumping bean in my belly. There is a hint of indigestion. An iota of restless legs. A whiff of nausea. Some negligable lower back and abdominal pain. And a lot of random flutters and even a few teeny tiny kicks I can feel from the outside now! I can safely say it now. It's been long enough. This pregnancy is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, like the first two. If it was going to get bad, it would have done it 10 weeks ago. I mean, I know I will have the unavoidable 3rd trimester discomforts (unless I miraculously have a 6 pounder) but, wow. Now I know how some women sincerely don't mind pregnancy. And the relief from the unbearable, awful, no good, very bad symptoms, has also made me significantly less emotional. Still a lot worse than baseline (if I even know what that is anymore), but instead of crying 2-5 times a week, it's more like 2-5 times a trimester; compared to 2-5 times a decade non-pregnant.

As I help mom's deliver their babies, day in and day out, I can't help but be reminded that I will be in these ladies' position (no pun intended) one day very soon. In the span of 5 minutes, I go from thinking, do I seriously have to go through this again? While helping mom push. To thinking, I cannot wait to go through this again! When I see that little baby being placed on mommy's tummy and they meet for the first time.

Round #3.

Well, this 3rd time around, the shorts barely, barely fit at 15 weeks. In fact, I am still wearing them and contemplating switching to maternity shorts. I don't think any of this is due to baby being larger, it is more likely because I started out 10lbs heavier as well as in worse physical shape than the previous 2 pregnancies, and didn't lose a single pound once first trimester concluded (didn't gain one either.) I really think it is physically impossible to fully rebound from a pregnancy by 7 months. I feel fine and dandy now, but I am fearing for my back as I grow.

I have been so busy, working 10 days straight, my shortest day being 12 hours, I have hardly had the chance to think about #3. In fact, I think February is going to come WAY WAY faster than I am prepared for, and BAM! We will have a 3rd little O ruling the roost. Perhaps this busyness has contributed to how different this pregnancy has been. I was not as sick. I am not as emotionally labile (probably because I am not as miserable.) I do not think about the fact that I am pregnant 24/7. Sometimes, it will just strike me, "oh yeah, I am carrying another little bundle!" With each pregnancy, I feel more and more like an incubator and less like an amazing miracle creator. But don't get me wrong, the excitement of a new baby, person, human, member of the family never, ever diminishes. Just the process to get there seems more routine with each subsequent gestation.

According to the Chinese Gender Calender, this one is a girl. It's been 100% right for me so far...But as per usual, I have no gut feeling one way or the other. Yet. Either way, I get to look forward to some big purchase shopping. Bunk beds for the boys. And a minivan (BOO!) for the family. With 3 kids in carseats, unfortunately, there really is no other option that is as convenient. But I WILL NOT EVER refer to myself as a "soccer mom", so you better not either. If you insist on giving me a label, I prefer Doctor.

10 Week Update.

So, It has been over 6 weeks since the biggest, best, little surprise of my (our) life was discovered. And more than ever, I am beginning to believe that I have some sort of guardian angel, white cloud, whatever you want to call it, assisting me at all times. This pregnancy has been significantly less hard on me than the previous two. I have been extremely nervous to admit this, because I am sure it will make all these now minimally awful symptoms explode and quadruple in severity. I still have pretty much every symptom in the book, and the exhaustion is near the level of Brock and Curtis, but I can actually function at work all day! It is glorious.

This fact, combined with the impromptu nature of the conception, and that the baby is due in a different time of year, most definitely means it's a girl. Right? RIGHT!?
Oh, and one huge difference, is that I began this pregnancy way out of shape. As well as up a few pounds from my baseline. I can tell. I already feel my pelvis "relaxing" which is the only way I can describe it. Being that the baby is only the size of a kumquat and my uterus only a grapefruit, it is not pressure per say. But it is something, and it's something I didn't experience until more like 20-24 weeks with the others. I am already contemplating getting some kind of support device for my back and belly. I never wore anything with the other two. And I already want to live in maternity clothes (thanks mostly to the bloating, but also to the extra pounds, and lack of first trimester weight loss.) Leave it to a girl to allow me to eat, therefore making me extra fat. Should I thank or curse her in the future?

Matt is pretty darn set that it is a boy. And Brock has said something about a sister EVERY time we ask about the baby. Curtis is oblivious, ohh Cutkiss. Only time will tell.

What happens in Vegas...

...most definitely does NOT stay in Vegas. And no, it's not herpes.

Matt and I were quite "lucky" in Vegas. We came home with more cash then we left with (if you don't count hotel, flight, and entertainment costs.) And more children as well! I generally try not to make comments like this, because for A LOT of people conception is not a simple process, but, when they say it only takes once. Well.

And perhaps all this is TMI, but with two kids and a bun, there is really no denying what went on. I am not kidding, when we finally got settled in on our flight home, I suddenly felt a little twinge of pain in my right lower abdomen. I then thought to myself, "Nah, that isn't what I am thinking it is [ovulation]." And as I sat and continued to feel that sharp, highly localized, very familiar crampy pain, I thought, "And even if it is what I think it is, it doesn't matter, it's been 24 hours, or more. Or less. I think?" And once the sensation eventually subsided, I forgot about it. Until that really weird dream 2 weeks later.

And now, Number Three really won't let me forget about it. All those lovely, familiar symptoms are raging these days as I sit here at 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant. And, since this is a third time around, instead of listing my ailments, I will refer you to the "Short List". Which I believe about covers it. I would just like to add that, so far, there is a slight difference in symptomology. My constant nausea is ever-so-slightly allieviated by snacking! This may sound like a small difference, and there is plenty of time for it to change, but to me, it's HUGE. With the previous 2 boys, nothing, I mean nothing touched that incessant nausea (except Zofran). Now, a piece of celery, and I am good for the next 20 minutes or so. Also, if I am not mistaken, I believe this blatantly indicates that I am having a girl. The only negative to this change...I have only lost 1.5lbs. Usually I am down a few more then that by this point.

And, while we are on the girl topic. It's pretty funny how convinced everyone is that it has to be a girl. Myself included. Not only does it seem right statistically. But come on? Conceived in Vegas? If there was ever a "lady luck", this kiddo is it. I frequently almost refer to Number Three as a she. But, of course, as usual (in case it end up being a boy and he reads this someday) I would be perfectly happy with a third son. The gender question will be answered sometime, on or around February 23rd, 2012.

(Kind of funny that my last announcement pertaining to the presence of another offspring was Vegas themed as well, using a modified quote from "The Hangover".)

Absolutely Elated

Matt and I are planners. We pride ourselves in making decisions, sticking to them, and being successful. Sometimes, maybe even too much. Hey, it's how we be. But, I can tell you this much, Baby #3, was not planned. And I LOVE it! I kind of feel like a rebel right now. I mean, how sad is that? A third child, that we have always known we wanted, is arriving a year early, and that is as crazy as we get!?

The whirlwind of emotions began on the toilet. I peed on a stick, and watched, and of course hoped to see that extra line (I don't know about you ladies, but every single time I have EVER taken a pregnancy test, I have always secretly, if not openly, hoped it would be positive. Every time.) Then, when it actually did start appearing, I of course had to reread the instructions for the millionth time to make sure I was seeing things right. This whole time, trying to contain a giant smile.

I walk out of the bathroom, still trying not to grin, to hand Matt the test. "What do you see?" Mind you, he had no clue I was taking a test or suspecting a pregnancy. And he, ever so calmly, says, "Huh.? Well, I don't know what it looked like to begin with..." Let me clue you in, the same as every other pregnancy test in the world: blank. And that is that for a moment.

Then the moment of panic. Though, really I wasn't panicked, I would say it was more like shame or a feeling of complete irresponsibility. Who am I to preach that I know all about the birds and the bees, blah, blah, blah? Obviously, I don't heed my own advice. I dislike being a hypocrite. This phase, however, is very short-lived, and overshadowed by sheer excitement.

We get to have another baby! A bonus baby! I have been fretting over the timing for number three, and my questions have been answered. This is so fun. It is a complete shock, and the best kind of surprise you can ever receive. I am just beaming. I want to tell everyone and anyone that I am with child. It helps too, that I have minimal to no truly awful symptoms yet. But I also don't know, for sure, how far along I am. I have a very good "educated guess", and that is a due date of February 21st.

When I recently asked Matt if he was ok with it. He replied, with such sincerity, "Erin, I love those 2 boys more than anything in the world, and they make me so happy. I get to increase my love and happiness by 50%. So, yes, I am OK with it."

Perhaps 2011 isn't so bad afterall (though the baby will be born in 2012, and all of the remaining 2011 will be filled with pregnancy, so...??)

Pseudocyesis

Pseudocyesis is the medical term for a false pregnancy. Pseudocyesis can cause many of the signs and symptoms of pregnancy, and often resembles the condition in every way except for the presence of a fetus. And I took probably a dozen pregnancy tests after I had Brock because of it. Something smelled bad. Test. I felt nauseous. Test. I was extra tired one afternoon. Test. You catch my drift.

So, with Curtis, I vowed to not be psychotic and to significantly reduce my number of pregnancy tests. I must admit, it's been really hard:

Recently, I have been feeling intensely scatter-brained. But that nearly always happens to me in the Summer. I think long breaks from school make me feel stupid. So nothing to worry about.

And the transient moments of vertigo and light-headedness, is most likely due to an increase in exercise, increase in sun time, inadequate hydration and decrease in calories for my crash Miami diet.

Then, my face randomly broke out a month or so ago, and has stayed that way. I mentioned to Matt that "if I didn't know better, I would say this is first trimester skin" as I just don't get pimples. Obvious explanation though, I have started weaning Curtis and therefore about to resume my monthly cycle. Fertility here I come.

And the last 3 nights, when I awoke up from deep slumber at about 2am feeling like I was going to vomit, I immediately regreted the 4 Boulevard Wheats or the large tub of popcorn with jalepenos from earlier in the night - that kind of binge eating or drinking just does not make you feel right.

And when I was shopping in Target and wanted to buy V8 and colby jack cheese, the staples of my diet the first 15 weeks with Brock. I thought, this is because I am trying to diet, and these are easy, low cal/high nutrient snacks.

Then, when I randomly had a huge fever blister pop up on my back, as it has done at some point during both my previous pregnancies, I explained it away as my sun burn. Must have irritated a nerve.

So, this afternoon, when I finally gave in to a rare fit of exhaustion, and proceeded to be woken from my nap by an extremely vivid dream, I realized I couldn't continue driving myself nuts like this. I just need to take a test for goodness sake. Pseudocyesis or not. The dream consisted of me expressing my disbelief that "Aunt Flo" had not yet visited since Curtis was down to nursing only once a day! And EVERY SINGLE PERSON in the dream told me that is was probably because I was pregnant. My mother forced me to take a pregnancy test in the dream...and it was positive. Therefore, I woke up, went straight to the medicine closet, peed on a stick, and there you have it. Baby O'Laughlin #3. Due date: Unknown.

Oh, and 6 hours later, test number two...still positive.