At 12:45 PM, my whole world changed....

She is here and she knows me. I am her Momma C.

Enough said.

Push her out, push her out... way out!

The pushing stage.

Melissa asks, "If 'we' are doing this, why am I in pain?"

Where is her head?

There is a lip.

Abbie is trying, Melissa is trying, I am but an observer.

(No, I am not writing this as she is deliverying my child.)

Mom says, "you look like a beached walrus."

We are going to the hospital.

It took them 4 hours to get an IV started and 5 sticks.

Finally relief.

We have 3 midwives and a doula with us. What would we do without our doula Kelly?

The bigger question is what would we do without our favorite Midwife? L. gives Melissa the courage to keep going. She is grounded and focused. Melissa adores her and will do what she says. I am glad she is present and it is a true honor knowing she will "catch" Abbie.

Melissa's mom tells Melissa, "You looked like a beached walrus..."

Thanks mom!

Abigail Who?

The contractions get serious.

Melissa asks me "Why did I want a natural birth?"

I reply, "You wanted Abigail to have the best birth possible."

Melissa asks me in a serious voice, "Abigail Who??"

One out of four Midwives....

Midwife arrives, then leaves. She freaks us out about Abigail's positioning.

What position is the baby in? She has been head down the entire pregnancy. Melissa would have known if she moved to a butt down position. She may not be able to describe it, but she could at least say the baby just did a move.

We are going for a Sonogram to check the position. That one is not good enough, I scramble and find a free standing one that will see us in less than 10 minutes. I make it in 8 all the way across town.

Baby is where she is supposed to be.

Back to the clinic. More exams, more frustration.

Water, water everywhere...

Melissa's mother is here. She decided the "we may be in labor" stress was too much. We have been watching a movie and Melissa is running to the bathroom every 5 minutes. We are watching a movie about travelling pants?? Don't even know the title. I am way too distracted by Melissa, contractions and my own thoughts.

Melissa came back down at 8:15 Pm, she says "don't get excited but I think my water has broken."

Don't get excited?? Is she out of her hormonal mind?? This is it!!

Melissa continues to have slow leaks over the next hour and I call the midwife. She doesn't believe us. She wants to examine Melissa and I tell her NO! Every time Melissa gets on the phone with one of them after 4 days of contractions, they make her cry. I am going to be the go between.

My least favorite midwife is going to be here in the morning to check things out.

OK, breathe!

Contraction, contraction, where's your action?

Melissa's contractions are 10 minutes apart.

They have been 10 minutes apart for one or two days. However, she is not having pain and the contractions are not doing anything.

The PBS song that came on TV when I was a kid, conjunction, conjunction what's your function keeps romping in my head.

I left you a present in the toilet...

My wife tells me there is a possibility she has lost her mucus plug.

I of course ask her what it looked like. She is out of adjectives and informs me she simply decided to leave it in the toilet so I could see it for myself.

Now, I am not always a fan of someone leaving anything in the toilet for me to examine. In this case I needed to know, so we could prep the aqua doula and get the supplies ready in case she goes into labor.

All I can say after seeing it is, yep, Melissa has lost her plug.

Whips and Chains excite me....

We have interviewed three birth assitants over the course of the past two weeks. My darling wife liked the attorney, I liked the one more like Mom. At least that is what we thought until we met contestant number three.

Our birth assistant likes leather!

I feel like a contestant on the dating game:

"So, contestant number one, how many deliveries have you seen?"

"About 150."

"Contestant number two, how would you handle a difficult birth?"

"I would use natural remedies."

"Contestant number three, have you ever attended an aqua birth?"

"I like to tie people up, and cruise the leather bars."

We picked her!

The Last Minute Scramble....

Well, we are in a last minute scramble to find someone to deliver the baby!

We got a call today, (38 weeks) and were informed, the birth center may not have enough staff available to deliver Abbie. I am appalled and have been on the phone all day, trying to come up with another midwife.

The issue is few people will consider it, as even though Melissa is healthy, they would view her as a potential high risk patient, because she has not been under their care.

I may have to deliver # 8!

The Green, Glowing Can....

Melissa is sick. She has been sick to her stomach all day. She thinks it is a precursor to labor.

I being the wonderful caretaker, set her up with a massage, a cool cloth on the back of her neck, flat gingerale, and a trash can. She finally fell asleep, and so did I.

At some point in the middle of the night I woke up and noticed a strange green light glowing from Melissa's side of the bed. I could not for the life of me get my brain to wrap around the possibilities.

Sure, I have been joking that Abigail is from another planet and she is so playful in the womb she has to be an alien. I was not counting on her sending for the mother ship at this point.

I lay awake for a long time, even got up to see what it might be. All I could see was the trash can and it was glowing green. I did not remember buying a glow in the dark can, but hey it was possible I got carried away at Target.

The next morning, the can was no longer glowing green. That night, it glowed again. I picked the can up, it stopped glowing. I put the can down, yep it glowed. I was not getting a bit concerned that there was something wrong with my mind. Melissa noticed the look on my face as I sat the can down, picked the can up and sat the can down. I noticed she noticed and found a way to stop. No, I did not explain why the can held such a deep fascination for me.

Later that night I dropped something and it rolled under the bed. As I went to retrieve it, the glowing green can was explained. There was a device, with a small green light, showing it was on, under the bed. The can, a translucent white was reflecting the light when on the floor, and stopped when picked up. The light was stronger during the night and was weak during the day.

Thank goodness I am not losing my mind.

What is that strange blue light on the ceiling?

Where have all the adjectives and adverbs gone?

Melissa's descriptive powers are unavailable. I am not sure if her internal server is down, or if she is just at a loss for adjectives or adverbs.

When she is asked any question requiring a descriptive, she gets a far away look in her eyes. It takes her forever to tell me how she is feeling, what she would like to eat, where she would like to eat, if she is hungry, or if there is something she needs.

I admit as a retired EMT, I am used to lots of adjectives and adverbs, thus I get frustrated during the prenatal visits, when she doesn't use them. I have even tried the EMT scale (tell me on a scale from 0-10) how hungry are you?

Some days, she even has a hard time picking a number. I can only hope it is a hormonal issue and she will regain complete use of the English language once the baby is here!

Hunter's Pooh Bear

This is the story of a little girl named Hunter and her "Pooh Bear."

Hunter is Melissa's 23 month old niece, who along with her dad,(Melissa's brother) her mom and her Yaya (Melissa's mother) visited us over the Columbus day weekend. It was the very first time Jeff had been north of the Mason Dixon line and the first time he has visited Melissa for a weekend. His main concern was the inability to carry a gun in DC.

Anyway, I pick the family up at the airport as Melissa waits at home. The weather really is dreary and the traffic is horrible. What normally takes about 45 minutes took us almost 2 hours. There was a slight detour as I got lost. However, Hunter was smart enough to pull out an area map and try to navigate, remember she is only 23 months old and she already knows I cannot drive and talk at the same time.

We get home and Hunter has about 30 minutes out of the car seat, before we head out for dinner. We go to America's which is a loud, kid friendly place and Hunter has a blast.

The next day, we travel around the city after I return from running a couple of errands and try to go to the Air and Space museum. Well, Melissa, her mom, Jeff, Mandy and Hunter all get to see the museum, I could not find parking. I tell them to have fun and call me when they are done. I go grab a bite to eat, because I know I will not want a cold fish sandwich from McDonald's (thank you Lalla anyway).

While I am out, I pick up a small toy for Hunter and four little books, as I figured it would be a way to entertain Hunter as we drove around trying to see the monuments through the rain streaked window. Jeff and Mandy were able to see the Lincoln Memorial and a couple of other spots before it was time for dinner.

The next day, I am showing Hunter photographs on my computer and I am asking her, "who is that?" She successfully names everyone, except for me. She will not say my name, which is fine, because she has only seen me a handful of times.

It is then time for me to get ready for another baby shower. As I am standing at the top of the stairs looking down, I see Hunter and Lalla working their way up. When Hunter sees me, she suddenly yells, "Pooh Bear!" and points at me. Lalla says to Hunter, "Say Carleh." Hunter replies, "Pooh Bear."

Thus I have become Pooh bear. I confirmed this name later in the day, when I took her, Jeff and Mandy back to the airport. Hunter jumped in my arms, patted my face, said "Pooh Bear" and gave me "pisses" (which are kisses). She even sent home "pisses for Missy," which is what everyone in Melissa's family calls her.

I am perplexed as to why Hunter decided I am Pooh Bear, but ever so grateful I have a special name. The closest explanation I can offer is she has decided I am "ever so forgetful" or "not a very smart bear," as I got lost coming home from the airport.

The best explanation and the one I like the best is to her I am a "silly ole bear," as Christopher Robins would say. I am very silly with Hunter and she seems to have a good time when I am around.

I am very happy and so very blessed to be Hunter's Pooh Bear.

Belly casting is so much fun...

I have the most wonderful wife. She allowed me to cast her belly in plaster of Paris strips. My friend Leslie, the artist helped.

There are two things you must know about Leslie. First, she says "everything is your fault, Carleh," and second, "even when its not your fault, its your fault."

So, the process began with me slathering Melissa's belly in vasoline. Keep in mind, it was not so much fun for Melissa. Gooey would be an appropriate word.

Next, Leslie and I dipped the strips into warm water and applied them to Melissa's belly in various forms of disarray. Keep in mind, Leslie is telling me I am not doing it correctly and that "your side is not going to be as good as my side."

Finally, Melissa tells us that one breast is trapped and that there are sections of the cast coming loose. We think it is because Abigail started moving and loosened the suction. We unstuck Melissa's breast and decide the cast is set enough to remove it.

We then begin reinforcing the cast (on my side) as Leslie was right, my side was not as good. We also fix spots that are a bit bare and in general make the cast smoother.

We did not make a huge mess and I had a blast, Leslie had a few giggles at my expense and Melissa, well let's just say... "Belly casting is ONLY so much fun!"

Ocean Wonders....

It seems we have decided on an "ocean wonders" theme for our darling daughter. My very sweet and talented friend Leslie, is painting Abigail's room. She is painting fish and coral and so many wonderful things on her dark blue walls.

We also have the "ocean wonders" highchair, bouncy seat, mobile, crib entertainment device, back seat mirror, travel swing and have additional "ocean wonders" items on the baby registry. There are fish everywhere in the house.

I have decided that once Abigail has "outgrown" the room, it will be my private office. When I say "I" it really means "we" as I do not decide anything without discussing it with my wonderful and loving wife. However, Melissa, who is experiencing pregnancy amnesia, does not recall this discussion. She doesn't remember quite a few discussing we have. I was starting to think, I am just very boring and she is "yes dearing" me. Not the case, as she really looks at me in complete wonder (as in I wonder what planet you are from) as to where I get these crazy ideas.

Keep in mind, Melissa has said, "I am never doing THIS again!" I would be perfectly happy with one child. Thus, the obvious conclusion is that I would get Abigail's nursery as an office when she needs more room. Not the case!

Melissa thinks Abigail will be spoiled if she is an only child and even though she says daily, "I am never doing THIS again!" She has not completely convinced herself.

So, I am sitting here wondering how much my life will change with one child, then wondering how much it would change with two.

I guess I am being a bit selfish also. I really like the way the nursery is coming together. I am a water baby and love the ocean. I find it peaceful and calming to my soul. Having the space after Abigail outgrows it would give me a peaceful place to sit and write.

I am a bit concerned about eating any type of seafood with Abigail. I envision a screaming two year old running towards the lobster tank trying to free her "friends," or conducting a "sit in" at the local aquarium to protest the "exploitation of sea life."

I will however, surely find a way to continue eating seafood, although it will be difficult doing so staring at all the stuff she owns with the theme of Ocean Wonders.

My eyes hurt....

Today, Melissa's co-workers threw a baby shower. This group of people are some of the most generous I have ever encountered. Most of the "big ticket" items were purchased. We now have 2 bouncy seats, 1 high-chair and the car seat. We also received the tub and mobile for the crib.

I do have to say, that there is a ton of PINK clothes. I would say out of the 20-30 outfits, 90% are pink in some form or another. There are pink bibs, pink sleepers, pink burp cloths, pink dresses, pink socks, pink hats and pink bags that the pink items came wrapped in.

I felt the absolute need to counter this by adding some items to the registry. I saw the best hats, all of which may be worn with any or all of the cute pink dresses. There are three hats, each with a different saying. The first is a white hat with "Sucker" written on the front, the second is white with "Milk Addict" and the last is a black hat with "Screamer" written on it. I will feel much better taking my daughter out in public in a cute, frilly pink dress if she is wearing a black hat that says "Screamer."

Born to Ride....

I broke down today and bought a couple of pink items for my daughter.

If you have been reading this blog, you know how I feel about pink!

But... hold on a second and hear me out. The pink stuff I bought, came from the Harley Davidson store in York, PA.

Yep, Abigail will be the envy of other little girls everywhere, because she will have little pink shoes bearing the Harley logo and she has a hat that says "Born to Ride."

Don't get me wrong, the only motorcycle she will be on is the kids version of a motorized "bike."
I am sure she will choose the "Pink Harley" to match her outfit. That I can live with, because I used to own a Pink Sportster.

It was not my choice for colors, but was a result of a joke, played by a fellow military sergeant, in exchange for a full sized fridge. Yes, I had to ride it on base in my uniform. You get the picture.

My point is, if I really have one, is in some cases I think pink, might be OK. It is probably even more than Ok if it is on a beautiful baby girl named Abigail decked out in a "Born to Ride" beanie hat and hot pink Harley Davidson shoes.

Taking food from my mouth....

I challenge anyone, who says a fetus cannot act in a willful way. I will invite them over to our house to interact with our darling daughter to prove my theory.

I know Abigail is going to be a demanding child, because of the events from the other night after dinner. I was still hungry after a small meal. I decided to fix a little single serve pizza to finish off my appetite. I asked my wife, Melissa, if she too was still hungry. She said "No, I am fine."

I popped the pizza in the oven for the 11 minutes it took to fix it, gathered a drink and napkin and went into the living room. As I sat down to eat, Melissa said "Whoa!" I asked what was wrong, she said Abigail had started kicking hard just as I sat down.

I a bite from my little "one serving" slice of pizza and began feeling a little stingy. I asked Melissa if she wanted a bite, she again said "No."

Abigail kicked her hard and I told her to go ahead and take a bite. Melissa took a bite, a big bite I might add, out of my "single serving" of pizza.

It occurred to me at that moment, the pizza no longer belonged to me, so I handed the plate to Melissa and told her to finish it. I got exactly one bite.

Melissa finished the pizza and Abigail immediately stopped kicking. It proves to me, that even though Melissa was not hungry, Abigail was determined to take the food out of my mouth, especially when it is a "single serving" of pizza, hot from the oven.

I doubt many will believe the stories from my interactions with this yet to be born daughter, but they are true. She responds to me in so many ways and each brings new joy to my heart.

I can so lift my legs.. Just watch me!

Today was the first of four Hypnobirthing classes. I showered, got dressed and discovered I was in a really good mood, until the flat tire.

I went to pick Melissa up from work to go to class. Upon arrival at her office, there was a guy on a scooter yelling at me, "Hey lady, do you know your tire is flat?" I wanted to yell back, "Yep, I like driving on flat tires so I can ruin it and pay for a new one!" I didn't say that but I cussed like a sailor, because this was the second flat tire in less than 10 days, and I knew the dealer would still not have a placement in stock. This meant at least 2 trips to the dealer and aggravation. The part that made me angry, is the "flat indicator" light did not come on!

Needless to say, there were several words I cannot post on this blog, coming out of my mouth at an alarming rate. Not that I mind changing a tire, but I don't want it as a career! The other part, is living in DC allows all kinds of "helpful" citizens telling me how to change the tire! Did I mention how hot it was today??

So, here I am changing the tire, sweating profusely, cursing up a storm, across from the DC courthouse. I could have been committed if the right judge had been nearby.

The tire got changed, I circled back around to get Melissa, who decided to walk a couple of blocks to go back to work. I am in such a bad mood and my inner thoughts went something like this.

"(Curseword) hyponobirthing!"
"This (curseword)is not going to work!"
"Why does Melissa have to read so (curseword)much?"
"Hypnobirthing my (curseword)!"

So, after an hour or so drive, we find something to eat, and find the woman's house. I sit my overtired, now grungy, grumpy butt down into a chair and begin to once again learn about birth.

Then it happens. The instructor goes through a script, which actually relaxes me. Then she "suggests" my legs are so heavy, I can't lift them. My response was "Yeah right!" However, as I tried to prove her wrong, I discovered I could not move my legs. By the time she got to "you can't open your eyes," I was a bit humored and a bit ticked. I wanted to say, "I can so lift my legs! Just watch me!" But, I was in a hypnotic state and couldn't speak.

What I want for MY birthday......

Wow, I am another year older today. I almost forgot about my own birthday. One could ask, "How could that be?" The answer is easy. It isn't really MY birthday anymore. Nope, Abigail will now have two birthdays per year. Hers, when she gets here and mine when she needs more stuff.

My mother-in-law is a very sweet woman. She always calls my wife and asks, "What does Carleh want for her birthday?" My wife always has a ready answer, because we usually discuss it prior to my birthday.

Let me take you into the inner recesses of my mind and describe what I REALLY, REALLY wanted. Here is my fabulous birthday wish list: 1. A new video camera, 2. A new digital camera, 3. An I pod, 4. A mobile GPS or 5. Any gadget that will make my mouth drop open and my eyes glaze over

When Abigail's grandmother called this year to find out what "Momma C" wanted, she was told "a gift certificate to Buy Buy Baby." So, this year I got exactly 1/2 of a diaper changing table, in the form of a little gift card bearing the name of Buy Buy Baby. The good news is this, eventually I will get a great computer desk, unless.... My darling daughter needs one for her dorm room. In that case, I will want a college scholarship for my birthday

"The Baby will come out!" aka How much birthing information can one gal take?

My loving and gentle wife, seeks knowledge always. Her first response to any obstacle is to read, read and read some more. Her research usually results in a wealth of knowledge and sometimes in the need for more knowledge.

Enter the need for birthing knowledge. Keep in mind, I have delivered seven babies into the world. I have seen them come out head first and feet first. So, I know how the whole labor thing works, even if I don't want to experience it myself.

We are taking Bradley classes- 11 of them to be exact (we missed the first one). We will then embark upon a quest to seek hypnobirthing (4 classes) as a backup. Each of these classes are roughly 2 hours (30 hours of birthing information). In addition to the time in class, there is the commute time, roughly 2 hours per class. Bradley is in Mt. Vernon, VA and Hypno is in Olney, MD. We live in between in DC. This brings us to about 30 hours give or take of commuting. Grand total for birthing information 60 hours. But, wait, there is more... Yoga birthing class for 2 hours.

While I will never be able to say to Abigail, "I was in labor for x hours), I will be able to say, "I sat through 32 hours of birthing information and had to drive for 30 hours to get there and back, so you will do as I ask!"

The funny thing is, the birth center called and asked if we wanted to join their 4 sessions of birth classes. I deleted the message before Melissa got home. I can't take any more birthing information.... the baby will come out.

I'm not having a baby, so why am I the one throwing up??

Sympathy morning sickness is real.

Melissa's hormones are steam rolling over mine. I am nauseas every morning, for no apparent reason. I hate throwing up, it is my least favorite thing in the world to do, but if I can throw up for Melissa so she won't, it is the least I can do.

I looked up pregnancy websites to find out if I have lost my mind. The good news, is I am not crazy when it comes to this particular topic. The bad news is the jury is still out on other matters and I may be crazy when it comes to other things.

I guess it just a way for the "your life is really going to change" message into my head. It could also be nature's way to get me ready for all the various body fluids I will have to deal with once the baby gets here.

When I worked as an EMT, I worked out a deal with my partner. If the patient was bleeding, I would ride in the back because Matt would faint (I know it is a funny thing for an EMT). If the patient was vomiting, Matt would ride in the back and I would drive. If the patient was bleeding and throwing up, well we would flip a coin.

I have a weak stomach when it comes to vomit, usually I will throw up "with you" if you get sick to your stomach. There have been many patients, who asked me if I was OK during my career. So I am sure this is a test to see if I can "stomach" being a mom.

Final Pink....

No doubt about it.... we are in the pink. Darker today, but we will see the doc on Monday to confirm.

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3......

My wife would win an Olympic event in preparedness for pregnancy. She is amazing and well informed. I actually think she has the testing kit boxes memorized for the ovulation kits and the pregnancy test kits. She has had lots of practice.

She has decided to take another pregnancy test. Having this knowledge in advance I was able to avoid an eye injury. I have become very good at leaning back and away from her outstretched arm, just as it is heading in my direction.

So, I go in the bathroom after her. Yep, it is really pink. Still faint, but pink. I am sure of it, even though it is like 5:30 in the morning. I even compare it to the test stick from the day before. It looks really close, but maybe today is a bit pinker?

If there is a test to find out how much pinker the second test is from the first test... My wife will find it, read about it and have it mastered in no time. By then, I won't be a bit surprised if she walks around, tapping on a pretend microphone saying "testing, testing, 1, 2, 3," when I see her headed off to the bathroom.

There is a reason for wearing safety goggles to bed...

I am already learning things about pregnant women I did not know before. When a pregnant woman become pregnant, she loses all sense of depth perception. Injury can and will occur if you ever forget this fact.

Melissa almost put my eye out this morning. She was trying to show me this very thin, faint pink line on the pregnancy test stick. I think she forgot how long her arm actually is or she forgot the test stick was actually in her hand, which she forgot adds length to her arm when outstretched in a pointing fashion.

After my eye stopped stinging,(I am not certain if it was from the poke or if she got pee in my eye) I got up, saw the little pink line. I could be mistaken, I could see little pink lines from the eye injury for the rest of my life, I am not sure yet. I may have to get an eye exam to make sure. I wonder if they make corrective lenses for "pink line syndrome?"

I did see the very faint almost invisible line. Could it be a false positive? Maybe, but I don't think so.

She will test again tomorrow. Tonight I am wearing my safety glasses to bed, and hope I won't need a hard hat the next time my pregnant wife gets excited.

Do we know yet?

Much like the Verizon guy, "Can you hear me now?" I feel like saying "Can we test yet?"

EPT first response IS the test to take when you want to know up to five days early. Melissa is like a kid waiting for Santa. She is convinced she is pregnant. She is thinking boy. I am not sure where that came from, maybe wishful thinking on my part, or maternal instinct.

Only four more days before the first test.

Your arms will always bend... I promise!

Driving Melissa to work this morning inspired a promise to our future child or children. I will always make sure they can bend their arms during the winter months!

I see these poor children everywhere, being carried down the street, with their arms straight out like airplane wings. Unbendable, stiff and looking uncomfortable. Yes, I know it is important to keep the little creatures warm, but like the boy in the "Christmas Story" movie, if the child should happen to fall, how will they ever get up?? They are not even able to hold on to their parents as they are being carried.

Without direct adult supervision, we could have a small epidemic of turtle children, in multi-colored outfits, lying in the street, belly up, struggling to get upright.

Where is the responsibility of the clothing manufactures? Do they design the clothes this way on purpose as a way to help the parents keep their children under total control? Do the clothes serve a purpose, such as allowing the parents to shop without worry of the children grabbing items from the shelves?

I say there has to be a better way. So, I promised our child their arms will always bend!

The start of something beautiful...

Today, we inseminated for the first time.

After months of ovulation kits littering the bathroom, no wine in the house and anxious anticipation of finding the right donor, we are on our way to becoming parents.

Today, also marks the day our lives may change forever. There is a mix of joy, fear and hope.

Will this work?
What have we just done?
Will we be good parents?
How do I keep from turning into my mother?
How do we stay a couple, while we are moms?
Will I ever be allowed to use the bathroom in peace again?

Two weeks from now we will know. Fingers crossed, toes crossed and lots of prayers.