Too Busy Not to Pray: Conviction and Confession

Once upon a time, or should I say once upon a year, roundabouts January 1st, I make this little resolution.  Correction: large list of resolutions.  Including blogging, writing, hobbies, what have you.

What can I say?  I start the year with good intentions.  And then, somewhere around January 2nd I am reminded that I have a village house full of little people.  Ages 6 and under.  (Translation: well-meaning, sweet, very unhelpful children in areas including tidying, cleaning, cooking, laundry, anything household related.)  I have a hard time accomplishing things like laundry, grocery shopping, and cooking.  You know, essential things and such.  And at the risk of sounding boastful, I must explain that this is not for lack of organization or laziness on my part.  I am at peace with the fact that this is simply reality at this point in my life, due to the aforementioned small people and their lack of help in said essential things.

Anyway, back to my point.  Or to my point.  You can't come back to something you haven't started.  As I was saying.

There's something about turning the calendar to January.  Something refreshing.  Something inspiring.  Something thought provoking.  And something convicting.

This year, January brought on this recurring thought and conviction about prayer.  I don't pray enough.  I don't pray well enough.  I dump this frantic wish list at the Lord's feet when I don't know what else to do and feel like I can't deal with whatever the issue might be.

Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts, I was also told that the spiritual giant known as John Piper made some comment about how Facebook/Twitter/Social media are all evidence of the fact that we are not too busy to pray.  I haven't even verified that quote.  Haven't needed to.  Whether he actually said it or not, or someone else did, the whole idea has been deeply implanted in my memory.

So I made this small change in my life.  I decided in the moments that I spend each day, every three hours, feeding the newest Nielson would be devoted to prayer.  Specifically for her.

Now that's not a major thing, by any means.  It's even a little humbling that it became such a revolutionary idea for me.  You see, prior to this revolution, I had spent that time on my phone.  Not talking, but doing all those other things that phones are now used for:  Facebook stalking, Words with Friends, emailing, maybe even shopping.  In fact, I had been so pleased with how technology has changed middle of the night feedings since my oldest entered the world 6 years ago.  No longer was I struggling to stay awake in the middle of the night during feedings because I was busy emailing, texting, gaming, etc.  I was plugged in and proud of my multi-tasking skills.

So I made the conscientious decision to put my phone down and spend some time with my babe and the Lord.  And let me tell you, in her short time with us, she has given me plenty of things to discuss with Him!!!  Wowza.  And let me tell you, in her short time with us, He has given me plenty of opportunities to see answers to specific prayers!!!

I have had no shortage of simple, very unspiritual requests for this little lady.  Help her to sleep well.  Help her to cooperate while we do __________ (fill in the blank).  Heal her belly button.  Help her reflux.  Help her not to suck her thumb.  Etc., etc.  And over and over, the Lord has shown me and reminded me that He does indeed hear our prayers.  Even "small", simple, unspiritual prayers.

And every once in awhile, I remember that although all these things seem so important in the moment, what really matters is that this little one grows to know Him.  To love Him.  To follow Him.  To point others towards Him.  And every once in awhile, I remember to pray for these greater picture things in life.

But I must confess.  Even though I have made this commitment to use these moments to converse with the Lord, more often than not, my prayers go something like this:

"Dear Lord, please heal Charlotte's belly button...Hm, I wonder what it looks like today?...Hm, I need to remember to scrub her shirt from yesterday that's a little crusty from her belly button...Hm, I wonder if she has clean clothes left in her closet?...Or diapers, does she have any clean diapers left?...Hm, I wonder if Phoebe has clean diapers?...I better remember to check them when we're done here.  Oh yeah, here we are, and I was supposed to be praying.  Lord, as I was saying..."

What can I say?  I'm a work in progress!  But this post is my reminder to myself to continue to be challenged to spend that time with the Lord on behalf of my sweet little lady, who is a constant testament to how He answers prayer, and how much He loves each of us and how He loves her more than I ever could!!!

November 4, 2011: The Birth Story

Have I ever mentioned that Fridays are my favorite day of the week?  Probably not because that isn't particularly relevant to this story, but it's true.  It's Tim's day off, but the older kids are in school, so it ends up being a relatively low-key day for him and I to spend some time together.

Thursday night went just as every other night that week had.  Contractions through the night and then nothing by morning.  So we went through our usual Friday morning flurry of getting kids ready, getting the trash to the street, and Tim & I going separate ways with separate kids.  We met back together at home, and decided to go for a walk to see if we could make something happen.  We walked up to a neighborhood bakery/cafe for a little morning treat.  Tim got a very large cinnamon roll, and I ended up with a smoothie.

That should have been my first indication that something was happening.  I never pass up the opportunity for a leisurely cup of coffee, but after debating very long and hard, I just wasn't feeling the coffee that morning.  So we sat and enjoyed our treats, and then eventually decided to head home.

We were about halfway home when it happened.  I felt a rather large trickle run down my legs.  I doubled over, in an attempt to stop it.  Without thinking, I told Tim, "Either my water just broke, or I'm peeing myself!"  Time: approximately 11:15am.

He, of course, doubled over in laughter, telling me that was the funniest thing I had ever said.  At the time, I forbid him from repeating the story.  Ever.  Every other time my water has broken, I have been in the throws of labor and very in tune to what was happening.  But this time was so confusing because other than the fluid running down my leg, there was nothing happening.  Nothing.

We headed home, and again split ways to pick up different kids from different schools.  By the time we had finished lunch, the contractions had resumed.  This was the first time I had really felt much during the day.  But I had been faked out so many times already that I was still texting some of our very closest friends, making plans for them to head our way for dinner that night.  And at this point, I wasn't feeling like there was much I wanted to eat for lunch.  I think I had an apple.  

I did put Tim on kid duty for the afternoon so I could lay down and get some sleep.  I retreated to the couch for a nap.  Unlike my night time episodes, I was having occasional contractions, but I was able to sleep between them.  I did my best, but then once kids started rousing from their naps, I wasn't getting much sleep.  About 4:00, I started telling Tim we should consider getting in touch with our friends who would be watching our kids while we were in the hospital.  That alerted him enough that he was ready to take the kids right away.  I told him we weren't that desperate yet, but that we should at least give our friends a heads up that it might not be long.

By 5:00, our friend was on the way to pick up our kids.  Which turned into a major blessing, because it sure was a hassle this time to figure out transportation for our kids plus our friend's kids.  And I knew it must be time, because by this time, I was having somewhat of a hard time dealing with contractions and kids.  Sophia asked at one point, "Mom, what are you doing?"  I had no good answer for a 6 year old, nor did I feel the creativity to come up with one.  

I helped load the kids in the car, said my good-byes, and then decided maybe it was time to start paying more attention, so I finally started timing contractions.  I know that sometimes a good hot bath can speed up the ordeal, so I hopped in the tub with my phone/stopwatch nearby.  Only about every 5-6 minutes at that point, and not all of them very intense.  The bath wasn't doing it for me, so once again, I suggested that we should head out for a walk.  Time: shortly after 6pm.

There is a nice little path around a large pond right near our house, so we headed in that direction.  Sure enough, that's what it took.  As we started, I'd have a contraction every few minutes or so.  I'd lean over, hands on my knees, and do my very best to breathe through it.  At one point, a young-ish (I never got a good look for a more accurate guess) skater asked us if we needed any help.  He was ready to call whoever he needed.  Tim made very pathetic jokes that it was just some bad Mexican food I had eaten.  It was at this point that I knew we were getting somewhere because I found no humor in the situation whatsoever, and was less than thrilled with his joke.

We made it maybe a third of the way around the pond before I decided it was time to head home.  Tim had been saying for the last hour that we should go to the hospital, but I protested.  There is nothing worse than being stuck in a hospital bed in the thick of labor.  At this point, though, I knew we were getting closer.  We made our way very slowly home.  We got to the busier street right before our house, and made a break for it when the coast was clear because by now, the contractions were frequent enough that there was the possibility that I might not make it across the street without having one.

Once we got home, I made a quick trip to the bathroom, and then knew that it was time to make our way to the hospital.  By the time we got to the car, the shakes had started.  I think I like that part less than the actual contractions.  It's such a feeling of being out of control.  Your body just shakes and shakes, and you want to control it, but you are anything but in control at this point.  We quickly loaded into the car, and started out for the hospital.  Time: 7:02pm.

The trip to the hospital was not as bad as the last time.  I was very aware of all that was happening, and very aware of the feeling that I couldn't handle much more.  But I was afraid there was so much more to endure.  The contractions were maybe a couple of minutes apart, but they were not on top of each other, so I thought I had a ways to go yet.  By the time we got to the hospital, I didn't know how I was going to make it from the car inside.

But I did.  And we became quite the entourage making our way up to the labor and delivery floor.  They kept pushing for a wheelchair, but I wasn't having it.  I would much rather walk than sit.  We had a nurse escort with us, but she wasn't a labor and delivery nurse, so she didn't know quite what to do with me.  She kept trying to touch me, but I would very emphatically remind her, "DON'T TOUCH!"  I don't know exactly what it is, but touching makes me crazy.  I think it's because I am not in control when someone else reaches out to touch me.  (Now I should clarify that's not on a normal day, just at the final stages of labor!)  As we slowly proceeded down the hall, we passed an actual off-duty L & D nurse who decided maybe she would just join our little party.  I was very grateful she did, because she fended off the other nurse escort who didn't know what to do with me.  There was conversation the whole way, and in spite of being in the heat of the moment, I was not only cognizant, but participating in all of it.

"We don't want you to give birth in the elevator."  

"I don't care where it happens, I just want this baby out."

"You're a really great coach for this."

"He's a really great dad.  That's how/why we're having 4 of them."

"This is my kind of mom, come on in and drop that baby right out."

We went immediately into our room, and by this point, I was begging/screaming/threatening for the epidural.  Get that anesthesiologist in here: STAT!  Time: 7:40ish, but I'm totally guessing at this point.  It couldn't have been before 7:30, but with parking, checking in, and making our way to the room, I'm guessing about 7:40.

Our nurse came in, strapped me to the bed with the fetal monitors (the part that makes me nothing short of CRAZY), opened up the hep lock for an IV, and attempted (unsuccessfully) to draw blood.  She finally got to the part where she checked me.  6 1/2 centimeters.  That was it?  Seriously?  Get the drugs in here NOW.

She left the room.  I almost literally ripped the monitors off my stomach, rolled onto my hands and knees and felt the overwhelming need to push.  IT WAS TIME!!!  Screw the anesthesiologist.   Tim, all in a very strategic attempt to encourage me in the way I needed most, was saying, "It won't be long now.  We're going to get to meet Charlotte any minute!!!"  First time we had called her by name.

The doctor and nurses made a quick appearance, there were a handful of pushes, and there she was!

Charlotte Ruth Nielson

11.04.2011, 8:11pm

7 pounds, 5 ounces

20 inches long

Beautiful.  With a full head of DARK hair.

I ended up loosing quite a bit of blood, and we had to call the doctor back in and I got quite a few more meds, and it made for a fairly scary couple of hours afterwards, but it ended up being short lived, and by the next morning, all was well.

And we were in LOVE!!! 

 

Week 39: CONTRACTIONS!!!

contractions

is this for real?

What a week this turned out to be.  In 3 previous babies and birth stories, I had not experienced anything like this.  Turns out this baby really wanted to keep us on edge.

The week started out with Halloween Day.  As eager as I was to meet this baby, I was very thankful that first off, her birthday did not end up being Halloween, and second, that I was able to enjoy the day with the kids.  I would have been disappointed to miss out on their dressing up and enjoying the festivities.

Sophia was a doctor this year, Noah was a dinosaur, and Phoebe was a little piggy.  They were so sweet in their costumes, it wasn't hard to forget that I was very anxious for this baby to venture into the world.  We took them out to a Trunk or Treat event at their preschool, and then stopped to trick or treat down one street on our way home.  It was the first time that they did the traditional trick or treat experience, and they just kept saying, "I love Halloween.  It's all about CANDY!!"

It turned into a late night for us (big surprise), and so we put the kids to bed in a fog of exhaustion and collapse on the couch.  Not much later, we headed to bed.

Turns out, I didn't stay there long.  If I thought that night last week was a trick, this night was almost miserable.  The contractions started shortly after midnight, and weren't close, but fairly regular, about every twenty minutes.

I spent the first couple of hours trying to sleep in between.  After hours proved this was a futile effort, I got up to finish the last final things I wanted to have done if we would be leaving for the hospital before long.  I switched and folded some laundry, sent some directions to our kids caregivers, made a list of last minute things I would need to grab, threw a few final things into my suitcase.  And then sat on the couch and waited.  And waited.

For nothing.  Contractions slowed...and then stopped.  I crawled back into bed in a heap at about 5 am, for a very quick hour of sleep before it was time to get rolling for the day.

The rest of the week progressed in much the same way.  Contractions during the night, nothing but complete fatigue during the day.

I went in for my appointment that week to hear that I was about 1-2 centimeters dilated and about 50% effaced.  Not quite what I would have hoped for or expected, but progress none the less.

People kept asking me this week what the plan was for next week (meaning once I passed my due date without a baby).  I have yet to have made it to a 40 week appointment, and we hadn't talked about it at all, so I wasn't sure.  There really wasn't a plan.  I was thinking I probably should have asked, but I had just never had the need before.

And that was how week 39 went.  Until Friday.  But that's a story in itself!  :)

Week 38: 24 October, 2011

I had pretty much forgotten what it's like to be at the very end, and then to wake up every day wondering, "Will this be the day?  Are we going to get to meet this baby today?"

I hadn't had many very regular contractions since that night of my last appointment.  I did go in this week, but there was nothing to check and therefore nothing to report at this point.

Wednesday night was the beginning of the little game this little peanut played, just to tease me.  I had to work on Thursday, and so I was making an attempt to get to bed at a reasonable hour on Wednesday night, so that I could be as rested as possible before my o' dark hundred alarm went off in the middle of the night morning to start my work day.

Our sweet and loving little girl had different plans for the night, though.  That was the first night that I was awake through the night with contractions.  They weren't regular enough that I made an attempt to time them (mainly because I was still clinging to hopes of a good night's sleep before work).  After my fair share of labor and delivery stories already, I know that they number one thing they say once contractions start is to get as much rest as possible, because you just don't know how long it will last.  So I kept telling myself this, and was very valiantly waging a losing war with the proverbial sleep sheep.

I have no idea how much/little sleep I got that night.  All I know is that there were several contractions that made me think we'd be headed to the hospital before the day was done, I felt like I didn't sleep much at all, and once the alarm finally did go off, I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed to get ready for work.  And once that happened, the contractions stopped.  So I headed in for a very unproductive day of work.

Week 37: The Home Stretch

After last weeks "scare," I now feel like this baby can come any time and we will be thrilled.  And since I am now at 37 weeks, it literally could be any time.  I am into the "safe" zone, at which I am considered full term, and there would be no stopping labor.  It's funny how that that mental milestone makes me feel so much more prepared and eager.  
But I had totally forgotten the feeling of wondering every day if this is going to be the day.  It's funny to wake up every morning and think, "What's the date?  Will this be my baby's birth day?"

I have decided to do my best to live in the moment, in spite of being anxious to meet this baby.  There isn't a whole lot of time left as a family of 5, and once this little girl arrives, life will most likely be pretty chaotic for awhile.  Who knows what kind of time I will get with my other 3 favorite little people once I am spending a good portion of my time feeding, changing, diapering and soothing a newborn.  So I want to cherish the moments now, and to make the most of our time together.  I want to savor the moments when I feel like I have life under control.  I want to love on and nurture each of my 3 special little people every chance I get.

I am also reminding myself that there is a good chance this might be the last time I am pregnant.  With that in mind, I want to hold on to the good things about it.  I want to enjoy feeling this baby move inside of me.  We all know that's by far the best part of pregnancy anyway, and I know that there will come a time when I will miss it.  Even though it sometimes keeps me from very restful sleep right now, I know that down the road, I will look back and wish I could experience that feeling again.  So I'm trying to savor the moments before they are gone forever.

Now, that's not to say that I am not fully looking forward to gaining full mobility once this baby comes out.  This time, more than any other, that is what I find myself most anticipating about not being pregnant- being able to have full range of motion, so to speak.  Full movement, flexibility, agility, whatever.  I just look forward to feeling "normal" again!

And now that we really truly could have a baby at any time, Tim has finally caught the name fervor.  We have been having more frequent discussions about who is going to win the great name debate.  I am not sure that we are all the way decided yet, but we're finally beginning to make some progress.

Week 36: Ready?

The 36 week mark means the end of my monthly OB appointments.  (After this, we move to two weeks, and then every week for the last couple.)  Since Tim is off work on Fridays, I usually try to schedule my appointments for then so that he can be home with the other kids.  Life is much easier if I don't have to take them into the OB's office with me.  :)
Before this appointment, I took Noah and Phoebe over to the museum across the street with us to spend the morning with some friends from church.  We were there for the better part of the morning, and then we had a picnic lunch at the park.  Usually, we take either the wagon or the stroller and walk on over to the museum.  If I were ever to time it out, I am sure that it would take longer to get everyone loaded in the van, strapped in, drive over to the museum, unbuckled from carseats, and then situated in the stroller than it does to just walk on over.  Well, for the first time in 5 years, I actually contemplated driving to the museum.  As I pulled the wagon full of Noah and Phoebe and a blanket and our lunches and water bottles to the end of the driveway, I found myself questioning if I could even make it across the street!!!

Somehow, I managed to survive the day on my feet.  We made it home just in time for me to gulp a glass of water (in preparation for my regular pee test) and head out the door for my appointment.  The best part of this appointment was a super speedy ultrasound to make sure this baby girl is headed down and out.  They had told me at my last appointment that they would also do an exam this time to see what was happening.  The sonogram revealed that our little girl has "assumed the position" and is just where she needs to be.  But since I said that I hadn't had any contractions that had me "excited," they would skip the exam at this point.  Which was fine with me, since it's all relative anyway.  She'll come whenever she's ready, no matter how ready my body may or may not be at this point.

Funny thing is, after the nurse practitioner left the room at the end of the appointment, I had my first contraction that stopped me in my tracks.  I had to pause for a minute and let it pass before I could gather my things and head out of the exam room.  And actually, then once I got home for the night, I sat down on the couch and realized I was having regular contractions throughout the evening.

Now, as much as I thought I was ready to have a baby and be done being pregnant, this freaked me out.  I wasn't "ready" like I wanted to be.  I still had stuff to get done.  Nothing major, but things like washing the carseat and getting it ready.  Dealing with all the baby stuff in bits and pieces that were scattered throughout the house at this point.  Deciding on a name for this little girl.  Washing some clothes for her to wear.  Making sure I had at least a few diapers on hand so that we wouldn't have to go to the store unless we wanted to.

So the next day dawned, and I found myself in a flurry of activity to take care of all those little loose ends so that I could actually be "ready".  And sure enough, at the end of the day, with the carseat assembled and ready, the clothes washed, diapers in hand, I felt so much better.  And "ready."

Now, if only we could agree on a name...

Week 35: "Poor Boy"

It's kind of ironic how at this point in time, my posts seem to write themselves in the sense that each week, I seem to find a very common theme to many of my conversations.  A couple weeks ago, it was the "when are you due?" question.  Last week, it was the "what are you going to name her?" question.

This week, it seems to be the "Poor Boy" theme.  The conversations about whether we are having another boy or girl have become very predictable.

"What are you having?"

"Another girl."

"And what do you have at home?"

"Girl, boy, girl."

"Oh, poor boy."

"BUT, he'll sure know how to treat a woman someday!!!"

That's become my canned response to this overplayed conversation.  After all, I have found that a boy who grows up surrounded by girls is actually a pretty rare gem.  So much so that I married one!

Week 34: The Name Game

At this point our biggest issue is agreeing on a name.  Which is clearly a problem for us.  If we were in agreement, we would have a name by now.  This is the first time I remember this happening, but I have one idea and Tim has another.
Every time I bring up the topic, in an effort to bring us to some kind of agreement, our discussion goes something like this:

Me: "So, what are we going to name this baby?"
Tim: "I don't know.  What do you think?"

And that sums it up pretty well.  That's as far as we ever get.

But every time I turn around, someone is asking me what her name is.  I have no answer.  Still.  I'm ready to have it decided.  I feel like part of the reason to find out the gender ahead of time is so that we could name our baby and so I could start thinking of her by name.

Tim suggested at some point over the summer that he might be bribed to agree to my name.  He's mentioned a few times that I have come up with no proper bribe to put this debate to rest.  But the problem with that is that I don't want to come to an agreement because I offered to do all the dishes for the remainder of time.  I want to be in agreement because we've decided whatever we name our daughter is truly the best name for her.  We're just not there.  Yet.   I keep trying for it.

On the other hand, it is nice to have a truthful way to deflect the "What is her name?" question, as I wouldn't answer it even if we did have a name decided.  There's gotta be some kind of surprise once she's born.  And it's just a lot easier to say that we haven't decided than it is to say that I'm not telling.

This weekend was the high schoolers fall retreat.  Once again, we weren't sure until the very last minute that me and the kids would be able to go, but thankfully it worked out for all of us to be there.  In fact, because of the vehicle situations and timing, Tim was even able to ride with us both ways!  What a special treat!  Especially since that meant that he was available to help unload and then reload all of our crap gear for the weekend!  What a blessing.

All of us had a great weekend with the high school kids, but I sure was glad we only had a weekend's worth of being at camp this time.  I don't think I could have handled much more of hauling my crew all over camp this time.  All of the buildings at camp are in relatively close proximity to each other, especially in comparison to the camp we were at in California, but it still felt like a major ordeal for me to carry anyone anywhere this time.  I was so thankful once again to have brought the stroller.  And believe me, I used it whenever possible this weekend.

This week was also Tim and I's tenth anniversary.  That's a big one!!!  We had always dreamed of taking some kind of celebratory vacation.  But, with being so close to having this baby, combined with the fact that we are still desperate to find someone to watch our kids while we are in the hospital, we decided we would have to hold off on that dream.  I'm trying not to dwell on it too much, but I can't lie about the fact that I am sad that it won't work.  Instead, we spent one night in a hotel on the north side of Denver.  Which was still great to get away.  But just doesn't compare to a week in Hawaii or some other tropical destination.

Week 33: How many more weeks?

A typical conversation in my life these days (maybe every conversation in my life these days) goes something like this:

"How's it going?"
"Great!  How are you?  When are you due?"

And every time I answer, it feels like an eternity away.  November 7th.  That's seven weeks still.  It feels like a lifetime.

As I was picking up Sophia at school one day this week, one of the other moms said, "You still haven't had that baby yet?"

To which I obviously responded, "No, not for awhile yet."  With a totally fake, polite chuckle.

To which she said, "You must have what, like 3 weeks left?"

To which I inwardly groaned.  And continued the fake smile.  And said, "No, a few more than that."

Even though I FELT like I must have looked, based on the track this conversation was on.  But I am looking forward to the conversations of this nature coming to an end!

Week 32: Sept. 12

32 weeks.  That means 8 weeks left.  7 months.  November seems so. far. away.  I remember thinking back at the 6 month mark that once I got to this point, it would all seem downhill from here.  Wrong.  It doesn't seem so downhill at this point.  Two months has never felt so long in my entire life.  I don't ever remember this last part of pregnancy seeming so long...

Tim's work, our church, hosted yet another shower for us this week.  That blows my mind!  How many people are blessed enough to say that every one of their baby's has had a shower in their honor- all the way through their fourth?  And knowing that we are having another girl this time, there is not much we need.  We're pretty set on clothes, now that we've had a girl in both seasonal extremes.  After the shower, I sat down to write thank you cards for all the gifts and felt so humbled that there was just no way for me to convey how amazing I think it is that they would do that for us and for this new little one.

Can you guess what the gifts were, and what the gift cards were used for?  Diapers and more diapers!

In going through our things, though, I have had a new realization that's made me chuckle.  We have been through so much baby STUFF that there are a few things that could use round two.  A bouncy seat that no longer vibrates.  A front carrier that was a lesser, cheaper off brand to start with that now has a broken buckle.  A second changing pad would be good, since we'll have two in diapers once again.  But who wants to buy this stuff for a fourth baby?  So I've begun a mission to find people who would be kind enough to loan us a few of these items.

I've also been hearing all about Ergos lately.  It seems that Bjorns are a thing of the past, and Ergos are the new latest greatest things in front carriers.  So I find myself trying to justify getting my hands on yet another piece of baby gear, that we really probably don't need, but I sure would like to try out.   

Week 31: Labor Day

We had some friends over for Labor Day this week.  The plan was to have dinner and then walk to a neighborhood yogurt bar for dessert.  The place is probably just under a mile a way, a walk that we've made plenty of times.  The older kids are even getting to the point where they either walk along with us or ride their bikes.  We walked to the same place on Memorial Day with a couple of friends and have done so a handful of times over the course of the summer.

Except this time, I thought it was going to be the death of me!  It felt so far away!  And amongst our herd of 4 adults and 5 kids six and under, I am fairly certain that I was the slowest one in the bunch.  I was trying to disguise it, but I was struggling to keep up.

And I knew the adventure was going to haunt me for the remainder of the night and into the next day.  It was going to make it a difficult night's sleep for me.'

But not wanting to be one to give up or give in, I laced up the shoes and trouped out the door with the rest of the crew.  All in anticipation of frozen yogurt with any and every topping you could imagine.  Including sour apple flavored gummy army guys. 

Except the yogurt place was closed for the day in honor of Labor Day.  No joke!

Week 30: 29 August, 2011

Kids say the darndest things.

For real.

There is a high school girl in our group, a freshmen, whose mom just had a baby this summer.  Some of the other girls at church were asking me how far along I was, and I told them seven months.  This normally kind freshmen said, "You're way bigger than my mom was at seven months."  After floundering for just a moment or two, I responded somewhere along the lines of, "Wow, really...and by the way, just so you know for the future, it's never nice to tell a pregnant lady how big she is.  You might want to remember that for when you reach adulthood."  Someone's gotta teach 'em, right?

On my one day of work this week, I had a first grade girl take note of the coffee cup I was carrying.  Her observation was obvious when she said, "Are you even supposed to drink coffee when you're pregnant?"  Again, I disguising my baffled expresion just enough to answer, "It's decaf."

Geez, Louise!  Since when do I need to worry about six year olds passing judgment on my health while pregnant!

It has taken 4 pregnancies to get to this point, but here, now in the fourth, Tim has been granted a whole new meaning to nesting!  I had been suggesting for some time that I wanted to rearrange our downstairs family room area.  He had finally gotten on board with my layout for the room.  And then taken it to a whole new level.  He decided that if we were going to go to the trouble of rearranging, he wanted new furniture to replace some of the freebies we had been using since we first got married.  It started with just one piece but then turned into a couple.

So we unexpectedly spent the weekend furniture shopping.  Thankfully, we decide some things better than others, and we made our decisions relatively quickly.  Now it's just a matter of waiting for the stuff to be delivered, so we can finish the rearrangements and restore some peace and order to our basement.

I'll take what I can get; it may not have been baby preparation stuff, but any time he gets the bug to organize, I'll jump on the opportunity!

Week 29: 22 August, 2011

*Sophia in Kindergarten
*People's comments about size: OLD

Not much to report on this week.  Sophia has officially started kindergarten.  Which doesn't have much to do with being pregnant, although I have come to the conclusion that in my very humble opinion, her school does not seem to have the best pick up procedure in town.

Each day, when I pick her up promptly (ish) at 11:55, I park as close as I can and haul both my growing baby belly and my current baby of the family, all the while towing a curious preschooler along side us all the way from the street, through the school's parking lot, across the playground and up to the outside door of Sophia's classroom.  Not an easy jaunt for me in this state.  If we're running late, I'm in trouble deep because there really is no way for me to get there quickly.

And that makes me flash ahead to winter when I am no longer pregnant, but instead towing a preschooler, a toddler, and a newborn to make that trek.  (Did I mention it will be winter?)  Not sure which scenario is worse!  It's these minor details that make me think this year will be a little chaotic and complicated.

I have also officially gotten over people's comments about my size.  I mean really, why does a person ever think those comments are OK?  Keep your mouth shut, people.  I'm sure it's not twins.  I probably am getting bigger by the day.  I have almost three months left.  Leave me alone!  And I mean that in the most respectful way!  :) 

Week 28: 15 August, 2011

Let's also dub this week "The Week Of Babies!"  Three new little arrivals this week.  Wow, has it been fun to meet and hold the little ones.  But let's be honest.  As excited as I am for each one of them, as I've held each one, I've really been thinking ahead to November and looking forward to holding OUR new little one.  For real.  I can't wait!

It's been kinda fun to have each of these babies born just as I've entered the third trimester.  Just as I was beginning to look in the mirror and wonder HOW was I ever going to survive 3 more months, holding these three little ones has given me hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel.  That's obvious to anyone who isn't pregnant, but sometimes, as your body's growing, you just feel like there is no way you can endure any more.  Especially this fourth time around.

In celebration of each of our friends' babies, I've done some shopping this week.  Ok, again, let's be honest.  I have shopped for friends.  But I have also simultaneously shopped for a new little Nielson girl. Back in debating if we were going to find out the gender of this baby, one of the things I thought was that maybe, just for once, it would be fun to do some shopping ahead of time and have a few new things ready for this baby.  And then we found out we were having a girl.  And I decided that I couldn't justify shopping, seeing as how we already have plenty of things for little girls.  And then I decided new life in itself justifies shopping.  This little girl deserves at least a few things of her very own!  So I've also picked up just a few new little girl items. 

And as I have been shopping, I've succumbed to the fact that maybe I am more girly than I like to admit. For I have discovered that it has been therapeutic.  As I've been browsing clearance racks for right size/right season rock bottom sales for a new little baby girl, I've been dreaming and imagining and wondering what this little girl will be like?  Will she have hair?  How big will she be?  Will she be a good sleeper?  What color will her eyes be?

For the first time in this pregnancy, I've started thinking beyond pregnancy to baby.  Whoa, here we are at third trimester, and I haven't even REALLY thought about having a baby in the house again.  And yes, I'm super excited.  (But yes, I am also thinking it's maybe a good thing that I haven't spent too much time thinking about it, because the thought of four kids in 6 years maybe would have scared me a bit!)  But starting to dream about this baby is really what has maybe shed light on the end of this tunnel of pregnancy.

I went straight from meeting the second baby arrival of this week to the doctor's office for my 28 week appointment.  You know, the one with the dreaded orange stuff.  Except this time, it wasn't orange.  It was clear.  And tasted mostly like really sweet Sprite.  It really wasn't too bad.  I'm crossing my fingers and hoping it was good to me and doesn't reveal any hidden surprises (ie: gestational diabetes).

Usually, while you wait the hour after you drink the stuff to have your blood drawn, they make you watch these scary videos on preterm labor and postpartum depression.  I guess since it's my fourth time around, they figure I'm an expert, and didn't make me waste the time.  Instead, I spent the hour finishing a book that I was actually very much enjoying reading without feeling guilty that I wasn't doing something else.

After I donated vials of blood for the all so noble purpose of lab testing, I headed back up to the OB department for my rhogam shot.  Lucky for me, I got the nurse who insisted on giving the shot in the butt.  I have learned that it can be done just as easily in my arm.  Even after I complained, she persisted in making me bare my booty for her.  (Before Noah was born, they poked me in the arse.  Afterwards, they did it in my arm.  Lesson learned.  When it was time with Phoebe, I graciously asked for my arm instead, and my wish was granted.  No big deal.)  Seriously, she tried to convince me it was because it was easier.  Easier for who?  When I tried to tell her my last couple had been done in my arm, she told me she could do that only if I was much bigger.  I have never been known to give up easily, and I wanted to tell her that the last time I had one in my arm, the nurse commented on the size of my biceps and how it was plenty easy to give me the shot there.  No lie.  I told her it was from carrying around little kids all the time.

The sure sign that I am exceptionally hormonal during this pregnancy was my over reaction to the whole situation.  I was irrationally angry that this nurse insisted on making me pull down my pants for her.  Ya win some and ya lose some, and I guess I it was clear that I lost that one!

Week 27: 08 August, 2011

Three months left.  If I'm truly honest at this point, I am not sure how I'm going to make three more months.  Even the simplest things sometimes seem so complicated these days.  We went to a family festival-ish event this weekend, and the simple walk from the parking lot to the event about did me in. You know it's bad when my three kids (including the one who's just beginning to walk), are flying past me and I'm bringing up the rear.  Waddling.  Holding my belly.  Hoping to somehow make it to the car before I fall apart!!!

I've all but given up exercise at this point.  Ok, I keep trying to delude myself into believing I can still do it, but really every attempt ends in defeat.  Which absolutely baffles me and causes me to be more sympathetic.  I always exercised all the way to the end of pregnancy, but this time around, that just doesn't seem possible.  I've always poo-poo'd walking as a form of exercise.  But a simple walk across a parking lot right now makes me feel like I might have a baby sooner than I expect.  It's so different than any of my other pregnancies that I don't even know how to explain it.

I've been thinking about the Duggars.  A lot.  I mean how on earth does a body have 19!!! babies?  I just can't fathom it.  I am feeling like this is about the extent of what my body can handle.  I absolutely CAN NOT comprehend doing this 15 more times.  How does your body hold the 19th one in there?

Thinking big picture, I've probably done less sitting on the couch during the course of this pregnancy than any of the others.  As I learned during jury duty, I just don't lead a sedentary lifestyle.  Not because I'm boasting about how active I am, but because 3 kids 5 and under just doesn't allow for that.  And probably because of that very truth, this is the pregnancy in which I have felt the NEED to just sit on the couch and put my feet up more than anything.

I started back to work this week.  (I use the word "work" loosely, as I only work one day a week.) Apparently most of the people I work with didn't know I was expecting.  I had a brief "conversation" with a co-worker.  It was so brief, in fact, that it probably took me longer to review it and make sure I was interpreting it correctly than the actual conversation itself.

In passing on the stairs, my co-worker says, "Oh.  Going for number 4, hunh?"
Thinking quickly: what is she talking about,  baby,  oh yeah.  Respond: "Yup."
"Wow."

Reading this replay does NOT do it justice.  If only I could convey the tone behind that, "Wow."  It was not really a "wow" response.  Really, it said, "You're crazy.  That's crazy.  What are you thinking? You're nuts."  Maybe even "You're stupid."

All that in those 3 simple letters.  I wrote early on about the various reactions we were getting in telling people that we were once again expecting.  This one, although much later, by far takes the cake in my book.  It was the outright rudest response I've gotten.  I may be crazy, but I am not stupid.  I just love kids.  And love being a mom.  And can't imagine a house that isn't full of little bodies and all the chaos they bring.  Bring. It. On.

Week 26: On the Road Again...Again

Week 26.  Can you guess where the first day of week 26 began?  Yes, folks, if you guessed the car, you'd be right once again!  I mean, why stay home if you have a mini-van with a DVD player and AC and can travel, right?

But this trip seemed so much easier than any of the others.  It was only a 3 1/2 hour drive, and we would be spending a few days on the lake with Tim and a bunch of high schoolers.  Packing was easy; shorts, Tshirts, sandals, swimsuits, and towels for everyone and we were good to go!  After all the packing I have done this summer, I think this trip's packing time might have totaled 30 minutes.  As my kids would say, "Easy Peasy!"

The only thing that was different about this trip was that I was driving solo (as in solo adult) with the 3 kids.  I think that might have been my first road trip with the 3 of them by myself.  Turns out it was a lot of fun.  Except for the part where I picked the last Starbucks in the metropolitan area to stop. Which turned out to be several miles off the interstate, with no drive through, so that when I finally found the needle in the haystack, I didn't even come away with the much anticipated "needle" because the kids had all already fallen asleep and I couldn't leave them in the car for a cup of coffee.  No matter how needed it seemed.  (And before you cast judgement, even if it seemed needed, it was still just a cup of decaf I was after!)

And let me tell you, there is not one single Starbucks between Brighton, CO and Ogalalla, NE.  Not one.  I was doubtful, but I tried to keep my hopes up.  Lesson learned.

Other than that, the few days at the lake were spectacular.  We had a great few days of family bonding- minus Tim!  Me and the kids all stayed in one small mobile home.  It had one bedroom, with bunk beds and a queen bed and just about a foot of walk space between the two.  This is where Sophia, Noah and I slept.  Phoebe slept in the super small living room, in her pack n play, behind the couch! Amazingly enough, it worked out well.  And after preparing food for all the high schoolers, I even got a chance to kick back and watch some cable TV at the end of the days!  (After Phoebe would fall asleep, I'd veg out on the couch in front of her watching Food Network.  Somehow, she would sleep through it all.)

I earned my keep during the days by cooking for the high schoolers.  It worked out fairly well in that Sophia & Noah were actually able to ride the boat while I was prepping the meals.  Phoebe would stay with me and scrounge scraps while I cooked.  This wasn't entirely planned, but it worked out well so that I felt like I was doing more than just tagging along on this trip.  

I was so thankful to be with Tim, in any fashion at all, and see what the "Lake Trip" experience was all about.  Although I never left the shore of the lake.  And since the water was ridiculously high, and the beach was taken over by trees, I never even got a good view of the lake.  Tim laughed when we got home and I asked, "How was the lake?"

As I've said previously, I've never been one to use pregnancy as an excuse to slow me down.  But with as choppy as the water was reported to be, and as bumpy as the boat rides supposedly were, I never stepped foot on the boat.  No boating, tubing, skiing, or anything "fun" for me this time.  And I learned something that kinda surprised me.  I really enjoy boating and water sports more than I knew.  I was truly disappointed to have missed out.  I've only started water skiing in the last few years and since I only get the opportunity once or twice a year, I didn't realize how much I've come to look forward to it.

Although, I felt especially reaffirmed in the wisdom of the decision to stay off the water when one friend told me that is how she found herself on bedrest for 3 months with her fourth son!  Yikes.  I have no idea how we would survive if I were put on bedrest.

Again, though, I felt like this trip took a toll on my body.  Hiking back and forth all over the campground, from the beach, to our cabin, to the main house where all the food was, pushing the stroller the whole uphill way, I got my workouts in.  Not to mention standing on my feet for hours boiling countless cauldrons of spaghetti noodles and grilling brats over our fire of Hades grill.  The meals weren't complicated, but cooking for many teenage boys who have been in the sun and on the water all day long requires Costco to the millionth degree size portions of everything!  When I was lucky, there were crumbs left for me at the end of the meal!

All in all, it was one of my favorite trips of the summer, and I was so glad it worked out for us to go.  And I was so glad to be home at the end of it!  With no more traveling in our foreseeable future!

week 25: Heading home

The beginning of week 25 found us where else, but in the car once again?  This time we were winding up our time with family in the Midwest and heading home.  We broke up our nearly 1,000 mile return trip from Minneapolis to Denver with one final stop in South Dakota to spend one more day with the in-laws, and then drove from Sioux Falls home in one final stretch of travel.

We arrived home somewhere around 3:00 am, in the middle of Tuesday/Wednesday night.  Just in time to jump right into the remainder of the week.  Tim headed out to work on Wednesday morning.  I tackled the mountains of suitcases that turned into mountains of laundry.

It was SO good to be home.  It might be hot here, too, but at least it wasn't so humid.

I love our annual summer trips to the Midwest, but I am SO thankful to be home.  I must say that the traveling was much harder on my body than it ever has been, and I feel large, hot, and tired.  That about sums it up.  And I have a long way to go.

Week 24: On the Road Again (7/18/2011)

After two very quick weeks at home, we found ourselves loading up the car one more time.  Although we most definitely enjoyed our time while the kids were at Grandma & Grandpa's house, we were ready to see them again.  So...we got back in the car and headed east for a family reunion of sorts.

Yet another ten long hours of riding in the car.  Maybe I should explain that I usually LOVE road trips.  I love the uninterrupted family time.  When else do my husband and I get to spend that long together, confined to such close quarters?  It's a true indication of how this pregnancy is affecting me to realize that not only am I not excited about road tripping this summer, but I am mostly dreading it.

Our time in the Midwest was just in time for record breaking temperatures and heat indexes.  Not only was it H-O-T, but it was HUMID!!!!  Consequently, this was the first time in my life that I found myself wanting to use pregnancy as an excuse to do nothing but sit on the couch in the air conditioning.  I've never really been one to slow down much because of pregnancy, but I sure wanted to this week.  I found myself drawn to shade like a moth to light.  And I would have been more than happy to park my rear end there to stay for hours at a time.  If my kids would have allowed for it, anyway!  Which, needless to say, is like blowing kisses in the wind.

So I chased after little ones and carried on as usual.  And took advantage of every moment I could in the air conditioning!

It was so great to have our kids back again.  And so great to see family that we don't get to see very often.  And to be away from our normal daily routine.  But, I would dare to say this week was my hardest week of pregnancy.  Between the heat and the back pain, I most certainly found myself counting down the days until November 7th.

week 23: Hanging with Hubs

This week was a first for us.  Ever.  Tim and I found ourselves in a situation we hadn't been in- ever.  Or at least for 6 years, depending on how you look at it.

My sweet in-laws, who obviously love our kids to pieces, were chomping at the bit to spend some time with the kids this summer.  So all 3 kids got to spend almost a week at "Grandma and Grandpa Camp" at the farm in South Dakota.

This meant two things:
1.) After less than a week at home, we loaded up all the kids and gear and headed out on yet another road trip.  Again.  I was less than thrilled at the prospect of another 10 hours in the car.
2.) More importantly, Tim and I had almost a week at home with just the two of us.  In our own house.  On our own schedules.  With nothing to do but what WE wanted!  All the while knowing our kids would not only be in good hands, but they would most likely be having the time of their lives without us!  (Many times we teased them that we had changed our minds and were going to stay in South Dakota with them.  This was ALWAYS met with moans and groans and clear indication that we were not welcome during this time.)  This clearly made 10 hours in the car not only worthwhile, but ~almost~ exciting!

To say that we felt pressured to capitalize on these 5 days would be an understatement.  It was such a tough balance to squeeze it all in.  We definitely wanted to "play" and be together, but at the same time, we had a handful of things we would be much better off accomplishing without kids underfoot.  All to be worked around Tim's usual schedule, of course, including Wednesday night youth group for both of us, Sunday church activities, etc., etc.  (Also sadly enough, we had multiple funerals and memorial services to attend in that short time, too.)

Since over half of our time was already scheduled, on our way back after dropping the kids off, we literally made dual lists: a fun list and a work list.  We didn't want to forget anything.  Our goal was to maximize our time to the fullest.

Our most daunting item on our list was to begin converting our guest room to what would become Sophia & Phoebe's new room.  It's a cave of a room downstairs with old school, dark wood paneling halfway around the room.  We spent a fair amount of our free time painting that room a tan and light pink.  Maybe not the top choice for either of us, but at the same time, it would have been nearly impossible and would have taken probably 5 times as long with all the kids in the house.  Thankfully, we were able to mostly finish the room in the time the kids were gone.

Our fun items included date night, use of a gift card to a local seafood restaurant, a movie night, a hike, golf for Tim, and a couple of dinners with friends.  We had also intended to play tennis, and baseball for Tim, but it rained some monsoons in that week, making both of those activities impossible.

Between the painting and the hiking, my body was again feeling like it was taking a beating, and I made my second trip back to the chiropractor.

They all say, and I have well learned by this point that each pregnancy is different.  I am wondering what on earth it is about this one that is making it so much harder on my body?  I am doing my best to not complain about it, but the honest to goodness truth is that I am frequently finding myself wondering how on earth I can make it through the next several months.

Week 22: Home again

Something happened in the time we were in California.  Not sure exactly what, but I definitely came home different than before we left.  At the end of June, when we left Colorado, I was quite obviously pregnant.  But I still hadn't really taken out any of my maternity clothes.  I was intentionally holding off as long as I could because I knew how I would come to loathe those clothes by the end of November.  Ironically enough, this is the longest I've ever held out in "normal" clothes.

But we got home at the beginning of July, and all of a sudden, I felt...well, pregnant!!!  I felt big.  I looked bigger than before I left.  Several people made the dreaded comment, "You've popped!"  Clothes that I wore right before we left were definitely not going to fit any more.  It was time to pack them away.  (Which was actually very ironic because I had that very debate with myself before we left.  I agonized more about packing for this trip than I ever had.  If I packed my regular clothes that I had been wearing, would they still fit me by the time the trip was done?  But at the same time, I didn't want to fill a suitcase with maternity clothes that were still much too big and would therefore make me look like a house.)

And my body had taken a beating at camp.  Between the long walks all over camp to get from place to place, maybe also my early morning runs didn't help much, and repeatedly clamoring in and out of a monstrous 15 passenger van, not to mention hefting and heaving other small children in and out of the same van, for several days on end, I was feeling older and less limber than ever!

The day after camp, I headed out to my much neglected gardens, and attempted to pull weeds.  After just a few short minutes, I found myself "stuck."  It didn't matter which direction I moved, it was going to hurt.  A lot.  And I don't like to talk about any of my physical discomforts very much; it makes me pretty uncomfortable.  But I knew I was in trouble.

And, I'm barely past halfway through this pregnancy.  With the way I was feeling that afternoon in the middle of my gardens, I was truly baffled at how I was going to make it through the next 4 months.  So my super sweet and very concerned husband (who was maybe wondering how he was going to be fed, and who was going to wash his clothes, not to mention take care of his other 3 children) scheduled my first ever appointment with a chiropractor.

Thank goodness.  I am not sure that I could have made it through the upcoming months without some adjusting!  Less than coincidentally, the chiropractor he chose is a maternity specialist, and supposedly caters to pregnant women.  (Although, in thinking about it, in all the time I've spent in his office since my first visit, I haven't yet seen another pregnant woman come in or out!)  Anyway, because of that, he offers a flat fee that covers as many adjustments as you want/need during your 3rd trimester.  I have a feeling that with the way this pregnancy is going, that will come in handy before long!