A Day in the Life of a very pregnant Altus AFB TLF resident who is also a wife, mother, and internet addict

Recorded Monday, June 16, 2008

Around 8am – be annoyed and halfway awaken from a fly buzzing around my head.
8:40-kiss Andrew goodbye and hear Eva say “Haaa!” like she does in the morning when she sees that we are awake. I think it means hi. Change Eva’s diaper, put her in her high chair with a banana. Pour myself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and sit down to eat by Eva, putting some of my favorite cereal on her tray to share. She likes it. Take my prenatal vitamin with the leftover milk from my bowl.

8:57am – get Eva out, get on the computer. She plays happily by herself while I check my email. Get frustrated with how slow the connection is. Realize my new digital scrapbooking class starts today and get very excited. Decide to get ready for the day (so the maid can come) before starting the lesson. Get hit in the cheek with that stupid fly.

9:05am – Hold Eva on my lap for several minutes while she plays with my Flonase—she loves taking off lids and putting them back on again. Let her out to play when she knocks on the door and does the sign for play. Think to myself for already the 10th time today how smart and cute she is.

9:28am – Open the fridge so Eva can get out a carrot and gnaw unproductively on it for the next half hour or so. Get Eva dressed in her adorable hoochie dress and laugh with delight at how stinking cute she looks.

9:32am – Read Eva her favorite book of the week, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” Be amazed when she does the sign for milk before I even say the word in the book. Be annoyed that I am out of breath simply from reading out loud.

10am – Put on Signing Time for Eva while I shower, and feel grateful for a good movie that I don’t feel guilty putting on for her. And she LOVES watching it. (Side note: she also loves watching the Animal Planet channel with Andrew and stares at the animals and calls them all doggies. Her favorite commercial is one for Meerkat Manor because the “doggies” dance and she dances right along with them.)

10:15am – Start my new Jessica Sprague digital scrapbooking class, “Now We’re Rockin’ with Photoshop.”

11:10am – Get Eva the piece of bread she’s been asking for all morning. Open the fridge for her so she can get out another carrot. Notice that the first carrot is still sitting untouched, save a few bite marks, and discarded on the floor. Kill a fly. Wonder why on earth the cleaning lady hasn’t come yet.

11:40am – Scare Eva half to death when she almost touched a dead fly on the floor (this one died a natural death—I didn’t kill it and leave it there.) She looked at me with this terrified look when I yelled, “Don’t touch!” and ran screaming into my arms. After trying several comfort measures (helping Mommy go potty, playing ball, letting her pick something out of the fridge to hold), I decided she needed some alone time and put her in her crib with a bottle of milk. Settle at the computer for a while to work on editing a photo for my new layout. Be frustrated at how slow the computer is. Maybe it’s overworked…

12:05pm – Get Eva out of her crib, put her in her highchair for lunch. Heat up a hotdog for her (roll it up in a paper towel), have her help me blow on it since it’s hot while I cut it up for her. Decide it looks pretty good and have one myself, with ketchup.

12:50pm – Andrew comes home. Rejoice.

1:04pm – Marvel that such a slow machine as my computer could be considered advanced technology. Eat two graham cracker and chocolate frosting sandwiches. Andrew puts Eva down for a nap while I mentally swear at Photoshop.

1:10pm – Andrew exclaims, “We’re missing our show!” Puzzled, I ask, “What show?” He grabs the remote, plops on the couch, and says, “Animal Planet Most Extreme.” I forgot—it’s his new favorite.

2:05pm – Cleaning lady FINALLY arrives. The towel supply and dishwasher detergent are replenished.

2:35pm – Leave for doctors appointment. Put it in GPS even though I know how to get there, because I like the company of the Australian man’s voice while I drive. Burn my hands on the steering wheel, which was approximately 358 degrees.

2:45pm – Arrive at JCMH OB Group office, check in. Pee in cup and feel disgusted when I see another girl’s pee sitting in a cup in the door where mine is supposed to go. Pee test backups—YUCK. Get weirded out by Altus locals in the waiting room and feel grateful for my normal, happy life while flipping through the Rachael Ray magazine.

***PAUSE***This started out as a very average, humdrum day. At this point in the narrative, though, it turns into a very out-of-the ordinary day. How ironic.

3:40pm – The doctor comes in to find me sitting half-naked on the table, as instructed. She does the Group B strep test and then checks to see if I’m progressing at all. These were pretty much her words: “He’s still pretty far up there…you’re still pretty thick…not dilated at all…and…that’s not a head I’m feeling.” Oblivious me, I laugh a little and feel relieved when that most-physically-uncomfortable-of-all-medical-exams is over and ask, “So what does that mean?” Then she says, “He should be head-down by now. Chances are he’s not going to flip on his own, so we’ll probably go ahead and schedule you for a C-section.” I was like, “Wait, WHAT??” I mean, I didn’t say that, but in my mind, I was WAY surprised. Even though all along I have had this feeling I would have a C-section and whenever I talk to someone who has had one recently, I ask them tons of questions about it (thank you, Anne and Val!).

The doctor tells me that she’ll do an ultrasound to make sure—it could be that she’s feeling his hand on the top of his head or something. After a little confusion with the nurse and some more blood work at the hospital, I go back to the office for the ultrasound. And sure enough, his feet are ready to pop out. That totally explains the extremely painful kicks that feel like I have a foot in my crotch—I actually do. Two of them. So…I am now having my baby Leighton on July 9th. And I’m totally excited. A little nervous, but very excited. Okay, back to the rest of the day.

4:30pm – Get back home and realize that I am covered in ultrasound goo because the doctor didn’t quite clean me off well enough. Change into my swimsuit and a few minutes later we walk to the pool. Call Lindsay on the way to tell her the news. Wish I could talk to my mom about it—she’s still in Europe.

5:30pm – Leave the pool cooled off and refreshed. And starving. Andrew makes tacos for dinner.
6:40pm – Eat dinner and watch a storm roll in. Turn on the TV to watch a dumb show, “Master of Dance.” Wind picks up substantially outside, skies get dark and it rains.

7:00pm – Get the alert that we are under a tornado watch; decide not to get in the bathtub together and instead continue sitting on the couch with the TV on the local weather alert channel. Thankfully, the funnel cloud never touched down (at least nowhere near us).

8:00pm – Put Eva down for bed, eat Oreo pie from yesterday’s Fathers’ Day dinner. Watch Jon and Kate Plus 8.

9:23pm – While working on his puzzle, Andrew says, “Honey, I lost a piece. Can you see it?” I look over at him and he is mooning me. Oh, and the puzzle piece was stuck at the top of his crack. Just to give an idea of how strange he is sometimes…
9:36pm – Type up this blog and feel sadness that the internet is down and I can’t even post it tonight. I still can’t believe I’m having a C-section.

10:00 - Give into the urge to call my parents in Europe. Calculate the time difference wrong and wake them up. Feel foolish. Talk to my newly-released-from-being-a-missionary sister; feel like she never even left. Tell them the news of the C-section.

10:25pm - Crawl into bed; chat with Andrew for a while about the C-section.

11:36pm - Andrew sleeps soundly next to me; can't get my brain to stop thinking long enough to fall asleep. Finally feeling excited and ready to have a second child--miraculous feeling that has been a long time coming. Eventually fall asleep after midnight. The end.